Beyond
by Mr.Crouch'sDaughter
Summary: First officer Murdoch meets Alice Khairay, the bastard of a rich English man, transferred to America to cover a scandal. She fascinates him, but as the ship sinks, they are separated. As they both meet again, he faces charges against his actions during the sinking. Despite her background, his lawsuit and the demons haunting them, do they have a chance?
1. A bastard

**Beyond**

 **A/N:** I was sick and watched Titanic and this came to my mind. Don't know why. Funny how the brain works.

 **Summary:** First officer Murdoch meets Alice Khairay, the bastard of a rich English man, transferred to America to cover a scandal. She fascinates him, but as the ship sinks, they are separated. As they both meet again, he faces charges against his actions during the sinking. Despite her background, his lawsuit and the demons haunting them, do they have a chance?

 **Rating:** T. Might change to M in later chapters.

 **Chapter One: A bastard**

 _11.04.1912_

It was 1:30 p.m. as the RMS Titanic left the port of Queensland, Ireland, finally heading for her real destination, New York. First officer Murdoch left the bridge, handing over to Pitman, and looked forward to a quiet nap in his cabin, as his eyes fell on a group of first class passengers on the promenade. Most of them were women, chattering and whispering, pointing at something on the deck below. Murdoch blinked irritated, feeling alert. Had there been an accident? A punch-up? He hurried over to the promenade, stumbling against Lightoller who came around the corner.

"Sorry…" he muttered, looking up. "Oh, it's just you."

Lightoller raised his eyebrows. "Just me, huh? Thought you'd bumped into one of your high class friends?"

"They are not my friends", Murdoch replied.

"True words. But I guess it doesn't hurt to play extra nice for them, huh? Might get you some extra cash."

"I don't…"

"Anyway, why are you in such a hurry? If the kings and queens want a tea, that's what the stewards are for", the second officer said with a grin.

Murdoch shot him a glance, feeling his cheeks redden. "There's some sort of an uproar", he said.

"Uproar?" Lightoller asked and followed his glance to the promenade deck. "Ah. Calm yourself. They're watching the bastard show."

"The what?" Murdoch asked irritated.

"The bastard show. Haven't you heard? Apparently, some rich English man had an affair with an exotic woman – middle-east or something – and now, the child is too old to be hidden in a cottage and sent as far away as possible, to good ole America. She didn't do too shabby, I suppose, with a second class ticket on the Titanic. However, the ladies and gents of the first class naturally have the desire to satisfy their craving for sensation. They've been staring at the poor thing since we left Southampton. Can't blame the men, though. She sure is something you don't see all days, with that skin color", Lightoller said. "Still, no reason to upset the apple cart." He patted him on the shoulder – Murdoch hated that – and strolled off.

The first officer stopped and hesitated, unsure whether to believe Lightoller or not. The man surely had a thing for exaggerations. But even though he couldn't believe a single woman could cause such an uproar, he also knew how petty-minded upper class people were.

He looked at the group of first class passengers again, then decided to go down to the second-class deck and see for himself if the story was true at all.

* * *

As soon as he had taken the stairs down and walked onto the deck, he could see Lightoller probably was right. The focus of the attention was indeed a woman, standing on the rail. All of a sudden, he felt rather sorry for her. She appeared to be alone and he was quite sure she had noticed the stares, even though her back was turned to the spectators. Maybe she didn't know what to do.

He approached her slowly, fully aware of the stares now also focusing on him.

"Shall I lead you to your cabin, miss?" he asked politely.

The woman turned around. The features of her face – the green eyes, the high cheekbones and the dark lashes – added up very nicely. Still, she would never be defined as beautiful, with a skin complexion so bronze it matched the color of a farm worker's arms after a hot summer.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. "Shall I lead you to your cabin, miss?"

At the end of the sentence, he shot a small glance at the upper deck. Her eyes followed him, before she looked at him.

"You are very kind", she said. "But I do not wish to spend the whole journey in my cabin. Unless my presence and its… side effect… is a disturbance."

"No, miss. I just thought you might feel uncomfortable."

"I am", she said with a small, rather sad smile. "But I enjoy the view more than my comfort."

"Very well, miss. I'll leave you be", he said and turned around.

"Thank you, officer…"

He turned back to her. "Murdoch, miss. First officer Murdoch."

She looked at the stripes on his shoulder. "I apologize. I do not know much about ranks. Sailor ranks, that is."

"No reason for an apology, miss."

She nodded slightly. "Thank you, first officer Murdoch."

"You are welcome, miss", he replied and then finally, left towards his cabin.

Her followers, however, did not.

* * *

Alice Khairay left dinner early, as always and proceeded back to the promenade. She did not know why she felt such a fascination for the view of the endless ocean, but it had a calming effect on her. Maybe it just added to her hope that in New York, she would finally be able to walk freely, without being stared at. Maybe, in a town like New York, she would also find some people who didn't care about her past. Or her skin tone.

Not that she was ungrateful. She knew, for a bastard, she had had a very decent life. Her father, having no other children of his own, had ensured she had had a good education and her grandfather had used all his connections to get her a job in New York.

Still, she could not shake up the feeling of isolation. She had thought, maybe childishly, that on a ship, people would tend to forget social stigmata and be more open towards strangers. She had been mistaken.

Suddenly, a now familiar voice behind her said:

"Are you still here, miss?"

She turned around, slightly surprised. "First officer Murdoch. Good evening."

"It appears your followers have gone", he said.

She looked at the upper deck. "I suppose dinner takes more time in the first class."

"You should not spend all time on deck, miss. You might catch a cold", he said.

She blinked her eyes, surprised by his care. Or maybe it was just curiosity. Anyway, he was the first person to talk her – except for the stewards – and whatever his reasons were, she felt rather grateful for it.

"Well, at least I don't have to fear a tan", she replied. "Otherwise, I might need to wear one of these ridiculous hats."

For a second, he appeared to grin, but his expression changed back to professional politeness in an instant.

"Has anyone been rude to you, miss?" he asked.

"Rude? Oh no. Everyone knows exactly how to behave, even in the second class. No talking to wrong colored strangers", she said, but to his surprise, her voice didn't sound bitter. Just… resigned.

"Do you travel alone?" he asked.

"Yes. My father has been very kind to buy me this ticket; I would not have wanted him to spend even more money. After all, our voyage does only last six days", she said, fully aware that this was just another no-go in the eyes of the many. A young woman, travelling alone, without the protection of a family member or a husband – she supposed a lot of the women on the ship suspected her to have set out to find a husband. As if that was anyhow realistic in her position.

"And your mother?" he asked.

She looked at him, without answering. She herself had heard so many stories about her mother, all of them false, that she couldn't help but wonder whether he was just making conversation or trying to confirm which of the stories he had probably heard was true. Either way, it did not really matter.

"I apologize, miss. I should not have asked", he said hurriedly and his cheeks reddened slightly, making her believe him instantly.

"It is alright. I was just wondering which story you have heard. They… vary", she replied calmly.

"I have not heard much, miss. Just… that your father is a rich English man and your mother an exotic woman from the middle-east."

That indeed was not much. On the other hand, why should he care? She was one of 2.200 passengers on board and besides her skin color; there was nothing special about her.

"My father is indeed a rich man. My mother is the daughter of an Egyptian merchant. But I have heard stories in which she either is an Egyptian princess, or a whore. None of them are true, of course. Sadly, I suppose. If my mother was a princess, I would at least have a title. Even if it was just a foreign one", she said.

"One does not need a title, miss", he replied.

She looked at him. He had blue eyes, she realized, like the water underneath them.

"Doesn't one? You have a title."

"I don't think first officer is a title that satisfies the upper class, miss."

"No, I suppose not", she said. She wondered if it meant something to him – the acceptance of the rich people. Some years ago, as a teenager, she herself had wished she could be in that circle – going to balls, meeting young gentlemen, wearing expensive dresses – but she had realized very soon that this was never going to happen, no matter who her father was.

"Does it satisfy you?" she asked, but it was more a rhetorical question. He seemed perfect for the job – maybe it was just the way he wore the uniform, or the way he walked, but something told her he really liked being an officer on a passenger's ship.

But to her surprise, he just looked at her, remaining silent.

She blinked her eyes. "It doesn't."

He smiled – but it appeared forced.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have asked", she said and turned her gaze back onto the sea, awaiting him to leave her. Yet, he didn't. Instead, he stepped closer to the rail himself, leaning his arms onto it just like she did.

"Actually, I should have been chief officer. But our superiors had a change of heart", he said after some more minutes in silence.

She turned her head slightly towards him. "Was there a reason for this?"

"If there was, I do not know" he replied, his eyes still fixed on the ocean.

"You are disappointed", she stated.

"Of course. Being chief officer on a ship like the titanic – it sends a signal. But being announced chief officer at first and then downgraded to first officer… Well, I suppose this sends a signal, as well."

"I understand", she said.

He looked at her and surprisingly, believed her. He wanted to say something, as suddenly, a male voice behind them said:

"Hey Will, where the hell are you? We've been searching for you."

Murdoch muttered a low curse and turned around. "I am on my way, Charles. I just… helped the lady."

The second officer looked at the woman and grinned. "Of course. We all know how helpful you are, Will, though it's mostly for the first class. No offense, miss."

Alice looked at the other officer, then at Murdoch whose face had immediately gone dark. She knew she was supposed to leave and felt rather sorry, though she did not know if it was for the view, or for the conversation.

"I am sorry, first officer Murdoch", she said politely. "I did not mean to hinder you from your duties with my questions."

"You are welcome, miss", he replied, but did not look at her again.

She stepped forward, past the two men and started walking back to her quarters.

* * *

Lightoller punched his colleague slightly. "Never knew you had a thing for mulatta, Will", he said loudly and Murdoch suddenly felt the wish to punch him right in the face. Instead, he punched him back rather hardly. "Don't be silly", he hissed.

The other man just laughed. "Oh, don't be so grumpy. I don't blame you, she's quite good looking. She'd be even better looking if she hadn't the color of the working class, though. Now, come on, we're ready for a little poker game. You still owe me ten bucks, by the way." And with that, Lightoller hurried back inside.

Murdoch cursed again, shaking his head. Lightoller had always had a big mouth and a vivid imagination. The stupidest thing about it was that he was often right. He had been partly right as he had teased him about "his helpfulness being usually limited to the first class".

Murdoch couldn't deny he had always been fascinated by these people. They had everything they wanted, they were accepted and respected and most of them did little for it, while he had worked very hard to obtain a position his superiors had just taken away from him without a cause. Sometimes, this injustice left him in a rage he couldn't quite explain.

Still, Lightoller was completely wrong about his intentions with the young lady. He pitied her, that was all. True, he also found the calmness radiating from her very appealing, but not in a romantic way. He sighed, turned around one last time to look at the ocean, then left the rail to follow his fellow officer.

 **A/N: Well, in case anyone is reading this, I hope you liked it. If you want to leave a review, good or bad, or if you have any suggestions for me, don't hold back. I am thankful for every critic.**


	2. Seriously

**A/N: First, the important thing: thank you for the review, the favs and the follows!**

 **Next, another important thing: I forgot the disclaimer. So, Titanic doesn't belong to me. If it did, I would probably not spend my time writing fanfics about it. Or maybe I would. Who knows. Also, I changed some things about Murdoch's past. I consider him a fictional character, like his portrayal in the movie.**

 **Chapter Two: Seriously**

 _12.04.1912_

Murdoch loved the bridge. He would never admit that to anyone, because he would just sound like a show-off, but to him, the bridge of a ship was everything. And the bridge of the titanic sure was impressive – only it wasn't his. It was Captain Smith' and Chief Officer Wilde's.

Nevertheless, he took every chance he got to spend his time there, when the two of them weren't around. This morning, Lightoller was on duty and the man didn't mind his company. On the contrary.

"Now, Will, what's up with that little mulatta and you?" Lightoller asked, taking a sip of his tea.

Murdoch shot him a glance. "I don't know what you're talking about. But I would prefer it if you would stop calling that woman a mulatta. She's not responsible for her skin color. And from what I know of her, she is a decent person."

His colleague laughed. "Damn it, she really impressed you, didn't she? And I thought you just wanted to pop the cherry."

Murdoch looked at him coldly. "You really have a way to piss people off, Charles. Did anyone tell you that?"

His colleague seemed surprised. "Yeah, actually, quite a few. Though you never did. What the hell is up with you? You've been grumpy ever since we left Southampton. That's not like you, Will."

He knew he was right. Despite all his teasing, he considered Lightoller a good friend, having served with him several times now. And being grumpy really wasn't his nature. Maybe he was a little… stiff, but grumpy? That wasn't suitable for an officer of his rank.

"It's nothing", he finally replied.

"Oh yeah, it's something. It's about the whole chief officer thing, isn't it?"

He didn't answer.

Lightoller sighed. "Will, you gotta get over that. The captain asked for Wilde, hell knows why. Maybe they've served together on another ship and he likes him. It doesn't have to be about you."

Murdoch stared at him. "The captain asked for him?"

"Oh, shit", Lightoller said. "You didn't know, did you?"

"No. I did not", he said and put his own tea aside. "I think I'm going on patrol."

"But it's not your shift."

"I know that", he said and left.

* * *

His first stop was the engine room. He had thought the roaring machines would calm his mood, but the sounds just annoyed him even more. He did not exactly know why he felt such an outrage at Lightoller's comment. He didn't know Smith – maybe, if he had been in his position, he would have also preferred an officer he knew for the job. On the other hand, his record spoke for itself. Hadn't he saved the arabic from a dreadful collision by overriding a command of his superior?

But maybe this was the problem. He had openly acted against a superior, and even though that had probably saved the ship, he doubted it had looked good to Captain Smith.

He made his way back up, ending up on the second-class promenade, without even thinking. But, of course, he could spot the woman standing on the rail, just like yesterday. He hesitated, looking up at the upper deck. There was no one insight. For a second, he felt quite ashamed. If he talked to a passenger, even if it was a female passenger, there was nothing to it, right? Some of the other officers did that, as well, but with no noble intentions.

He decided to give a damn about it and approached her.

"Good morning", he said shortly, then stepped towards the rail.

"Good morning, first officer Murdoch", she replied.

Afterwards, they stood in silence. He actually quite enjoyed it – her calmness, the ocean's calmness and the ship's calm movements being a nice contrast to Lightoller's loud mouth.

After a while, the woman looked at him.

"You seem to be in a bad mood", she said.

"Is it so obvious?" he asked.

"Your expression is. Has anything gone wrong?"

"No, miss. Everything is in perfect order."

She raised an eyebrow, but left it at that.

"What will you do? When you're in New York?" he finally asked.

"I will be a secretary. My grandfather arranged it", she replied. "And you? Will you go back to England on the titanic?"

"I suppose so. Unless White Star Line decides differently." His tone was bitter, but she decided not to push him further.

"Did you always want to become a sailor?" she asked instead, in the hope this would enlighten his mood.

"Yes. My father was one, as well. I wanted to step in his shoes."

"You did well, then."

"I did okay. I learnt hard for the tests."

"I don't believe you", she said.

He looked at her surprised, then shrugged his shoulders. "I was good."

"Yes, I expected that."

He blinked, irritated, then his eyes glanced at the upper deck. Lightoller, Moody and one of the stewards were standing there. He believed he could see them grin and immediately felt uncomfortable. He had never liked being watched.

The woman turned around and followed his glance, just as the officers burst into laughter.

"I embarrass you", she stated.

He hesitated, only for a second, but they both knew it was enough of a reply.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, first officer Murdoch", she said and walked to the entrance.

He wanted to say something, but didn't quite now what or how and then, she had already vanished, leaving him alone on the rail. Murdoch shot an angry glance at the officers on the upper deck and positioned his cap.

Damn Lightoller and the others. And damn his own stupidity. Hadn't he just decided to give a damn about them? And now, here he was, considering nothing but what they might say. He had always been eager to make a good impression, but he hadn't done anything that would interfere with that. And honestly, he didn't understand why they were making such a fuss.

He hurried up back to the bridge, where Lightoller already expected him.

"Calmed down?" the man asked as he entered, the grin still on his lips.

"Finished sneaking after me?" he replied angrily.

"Heaven's, Will! You know me, I'm always making fun of things. I don't mean anything by it", Lightoller said.

"Really? And why did you feel the need to bring half the officers to watch me?"

"We're not watching you, Will. We're just… curious."

"There's no need to be curious of anything", he snapped.

"Pity", Lightoller said.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, Will. The last woman you were interested in left you five years ago; you should do something about it. You don't want to stay a bachelor for the rest of your life, do you?"

"Not everyone is so lucky to meet such a kind woman as yours, Charles."

"Yeah yeah, I know I am blessed. God knows why she sticks with me, appears we share the same kind of humor. But you deserve someone who treats you right, Will. And if you can't find that, you might as well have a little fun. You're the first officer of the titanic, damn it! I'm sure this impresses the ladies."

"I don't have time for little flings", Murdoch replied.

"Oh heavens, everyone knows you're always doing your best, fulfilling each and every duty there is. But that doesn't mean you can't have fun. And I'm sure that particular little lady isn't quite immune to your charms, whatever they may be."

"Funny, Charles. Really funny. Ever considered that I am not one of the officers regarding women on a ship as a trophy?"

"Yeah. And I also considered that this lady doesn't want to be anybody's trophy. That just makes it even more interesting."

"If you haven't realized, she just left me standing on the rail. So I suppose you can stop being interested. There wasn't anything happening before and there surely isn't anything happening now."

"What? Did you bail out even before a first kiss? So disappointing", Lightoller said with a grin.

Murdoch sighed and shook his head. "Can't you take anything seriously?"

"Of course I can", his friend replied. "But where the hell is the fun in that? Besides, you're surely serious enough for both of us."

* * *

Alice did not return to the promenade that day. For the first time since they left England, she spent every hour in her quarters, only leaving it for dinner. She knew she should not be disappointed. After all, the man had only tried to be polite. She was pretty sure he hadn't wanted to be stared at. Or whispered about.

While she had had to learn to cope with this, he surely had no reason to endure it. And she really tried to make herself believe that she didn't want him to, that it was too much to ask, but after she had finally met someone who talked to her, the loss was quite tangible. Even more because she considered him a decent man, a person she was sure everyone liked to talk to and was fond of.

She sighed and shook her head. All of this was to no avail. Tomorrow, she would go back on deck and watch the ocean, alone, silent, as she had done in the very beginning.

* * *

 _13.04.1912_

First officer Murdoch woke up after another eventless night shift. Completely eventless. Without stares, silly comments – and without any more conversations with female strangers. Female strangers he had actually looked out for last night, but had been impossible to find. He couldn't help but wonder if her absence had anything to do with his inglorious silence, but quickly cast the thought aside. What reason on earth would she have to really bother about it? After all, their few conversations had consisted of nothing but small talk – small talk he had quite enjoyed and had believed she enjoyed as well, but that had probably been nothing but mere imagination.

Maybe she had met someone at dinner, a nice, young lady to chat and laugh with, instead of an angry officer with nothing to talk about but ships and laments. He shook his head and sighed. Why was he even thinking about it?

He finished his morning routine and put on his clothes, heading for the bridge. The weather was good, as it had been since they left England. It appeared even god loved the titanic. He knew the sea could be rather harsh in April, but so far, the weather had meant well with them.

Captain Smith had followed Ismay's suggestions to increase the speed and they would probably arrive in New York one day earlier, to everyone's astonishment. But this didn't change the fact that he thought Ismay was an unbearable jerk. This, on the other hand, didn't change the fact that he behaved even more politely to the man. After all, he was the chairman of the White Star Line – what else was he supposed to do?

He drank a cup of tea, then left the bridge for patrol. The first-class deck was still very empty; he suspected 9.30 a.m. was too early for these people to be seen. The third class, however, was already up and around, children playing on the deck, men smoking and grinning at women. Sometimes he wondered if they actually lived a happier life than the royals and the riches, without all these weird social rules. But then again, he knew they were sharing their deck with rats, and if there was one thing he really hated about life on a ship, it was these nasty beasts.

Very early in his career, he had woken up to find one sitting on the edge of his bed, inches away from his leg. In the weeks after, he had woken up often, imagining whiskers touching him.

He went up to the second-class promenade, which was mostly visited by married couples, the husbands trying to impress their wives with technical details about the ship, most of them wrong.

Just as he wanted to return to the bridge, he saw a familiar figure standing on the rail. She had switched places, but her long black hair and the way she stood, gazing at the ocean, revealed her.

He stopped and hesitated, not wanting to bother her and, at the same time, wondering if he did. Finally, he stepped forward.

"I don't even know your name", he said.

The woman turned around.

"I doubt it is still important, since our acquaintance has ended", she replied calmly, without sounding reproachful.

He looked at her and before he finished thinking, he said: "I didn't know it had."

"You have been very kind to me, first officer Murdoch", she said, lowering her gaze. She had never done that before. "But I do not wish to be a burden for you. Or an embarrassment."

"It' not…" he started, then sighed. "I just don't want to get you into trouble, miss. The others… might say things that are untrue."

"I have been in trouble since my birth, first officer Murdoch and I have learnt that rumors always exist, no matter what you do. The only important thing, however, is the truth. And it's the only thing I regard." She looked at him. "But I don't know if you feel the same. From what I have heard, reputation is important to you. And I fear talking to me does not raise yours."

"It's not how Lightoller said. I'm not… just friendly to the upper class", he said defensively. "I just… I don't know. I want to be respected."

"Everyone wants that. There's nothing wrong with it", she said.

"Yeah", he replied shortly.

"But as the first officer of a ship like the titanic, I am sure people regard you most highly."

"I think most of the first class passengers regard me as their go-boy. It would maybe be different if I was the captain."

"And you mind it", she stated.

"Yes, I mind it, miss."

"Why?"

He looked at her and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I've always wanted… to belong to them. Not like, actually be one of them, but be accepted."

"Yes, I understand", she replied.

He immediately felt silly for mentioning it. He was, after all, not socially avoided.

"Are you still angry?" she asked after a while.

He looked at her. "I wasn't… It's just… Someone told me something and I didn't know what to think. "

"About what?"

"About my downgrading. Apparently, the captain himself asked for Wilde as chief officer."

"Do you know why?"

He shook his head. "No. My colleague said it was probably nothing, that maybe they just served together before and the captain liked him…"

"But you doubt it."

"I don't think Captain Smith is very fond of me. He always looks at me like I am unworthy of the ship."

"I am pretty sure you gave him no reason to think that."

"You are very kind, miss", he replied. "Maybe I am just imagining it, but… I worked really hard to be here."

"And you want it to pay off."

"Yes", he said. "Maybe I should have stayed on the olympic. I would have become chief officer, there, I am sure."

The woman smiled slightly. "But she's not the titanic."

"No, she is not." He looked at her. "Will you tell me, now?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your name."

"Alice. Alice Khairay", she said.

"Alice is a nice English name", he replied.

"And probably the only real English thing about me."

"I don't know. You are very… calm, miss."

"I don't know if that's an English thing or just to be owed to my governess."

"Wasn't your governess English?" he asked.

She looked at him. "Well, actually, yes."

"See? You can get the girl out of England, but you can't get England out of the girl."

"Speaking of it, your accent… it's not English, is it?" she asked.

"No, miss. Scottish. Though I actually try really hard to hide it."

"Why? It sounds… good. Not as snobbish as the stewards."

"The goal when working with rich people is to sound just as snobbish as them, miss", he said, keeping a very stern face.

"Thanks for enlightening me on that, first officer Murdoch. I will try to work on my own pronunciation. Maybe then someone will finally have dinner with me."

He looked at her. "Don't you mind it? Being alone all the time?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I've gotten used to it. Besides, I'm not alone all the time, am I?"

And she smiled at him. Really smiled. It enlightened her whole face and for the first time since he met her, she appeared happy. He couldn't help but smile himself.

"No, miss. Apparently not."

She turned her gaze away from him, back to the sea and sighed. "I should maybe get back in. The mass starts in ten minutes and I don't want to be also regarded as a pagan. I already missed the last one. And I'm sure you have more important duties to fulfill than keeping me company."

"Many, miss, but none as comforting."

She smiled again, quietly. "Thank you for keeping me company, then. It's... a pleasure."

"All mine, miss."

She looked surprised, then shook her head, irritated, before she walked passed him.

He found himself staring and smiling after her, at least until he realized how stupid he probably looked. Gladly, she didn't turn around to add to his embarrassment. And gladly, Lightoller was still fast asleep. Will was sure the man would have had quite a few things to say about his foolishness.

 **A/N: Liked it? Hated it? Your opinion matters to me. Next time, we're going to get a little bit reckless and a little bit cozy before the titanic meets its fate.**


	3. Expensive

**A/N: I admit, I enjoy writing this. Thank you, sarahmichellegellarfan1, for your review. I'm glad you like the story so far! Also, I have to point out that I used the dialogue from the film for the scene as the titanic hit the iceberg and as Andrews delivered the bad news. So, the dialogue itself belongs to the film, not to me.**

 **Chapter Three: Expensive**

" _I don't want expensive gifts; I don't want to be bought. I have everything I want. I just want someone to be there for me, to make me feel safe and secure."_

 _(Princess Diana)_

 _13.04.1912_

 _None as comforting._

The words followed her even in the mass. She was sure her governess would have had quite a few things to say about that, if she had been there. Luckily, she wasn't. Or maybe unluckily. Alice felt as if she was drawn into something she did not understand, or maybe misinterpret. At first, she had regarded first officer Murdoch simply as a very kind man and had cherished their conversations. Now, it felt different. It weren't only the conversations she cherished. She found herself picturing his blue eyes, only inches away from her face. It made her feel insecure and childish.

She was sure he meant nothing by it, but still couldn't help wondering if there was maybe more to it. Yet even if he did, what good was it?

He was a respectable man, but she wasn't a respectable woman. Even if he was interested in her, it would never lead to anything.

She sighed and shook her head. She was being childish again. She tried to concentrate to the mass, but it was almost completely useless.

* * *

On the bridge, Lightoller found Murdoch's behavior most suspicious.

"You are in an astonishing good mood today, my friend", he said. "Finally given up holding a grudge on me?"

"Maybe I've just finally decided to give up listening to you, Charles", he replied.

"Ah. Or maybe you have reconciled with that little lady who has won your attention?"

"Or maybe I have just decided to accept Wilde as chief officer and apply on another ship to finally reach my goal."

"You want to do _what_?" Lightoller asked loudly.

"I don't. I just joined in your nonsense."

"Damn it, Will! I almost had a heart attack! You can't leave me here with Smith and Wilde and ride off into the sunset. We're a team."

"That almost sounds like you're in love with me."

"Don't be stupid. You're way too small. You look like a penguin in that coat. And you've got no sense of humor."

"That is actually quite relieving. And insulting."

"Yeah yeah. By the way, we've received another ice warning", Lightoller said.

"Another one?"

"Yes."

Murdoch frowned. "Maybe we should try to find the binoculars for the crow's nest."

"Well, good luck. Last time I saw them was when we left Southampton", his colleague replied. "Anyway, I'll leave the bridge to you and see if everything else is in order."

"Finally found your sense for duty, have you?" Murdoch asked.

"No sense of humor. Just as I said", Lightoller muttered.

* * *

It was half past nine as Murdoch spotted the woman again, standing on the rail. He had gotten so used to the sight that he wondered slightly if he would search for her when the titanic returned home, even though he knew she wouldn't be on board. He also wondered what he would be doing, then.

"Good evening, miss", he said as he walked over.

"Good evening, first officer Murdoch", she replied and looked at him. "Are you always on duty?"

"Actually, I've got the evening off, miss. My shift starts again at 11 p.m.", he said. "I came to see if you were alright."

"I am fine. A little bit stuffed, maybe", she replied with a small smile.

"You find the dinner pleasing, miss?"

"It is impressive, as the ship itself. Even though I haven't seen anything except the second class deck and this promenade."

He looked at her and a ridiculous thought crossed his mind. He hesitated for a second, but the idea was so persistent he found it impossible to resist.

"I'll show you something", he said and presented her his arm. "If you would follow me, miss."

She stared at him, then slowly, slipped her arm through his.

"This might not be wise", she said as he led her over the deck.

"A lot of my fellow officers have shown ladies some part of the ship as a courtesy. I don't see why I can't show you."

"I am not a lady", she said.

"I think you're fully qualified for one, miss", he replied and led her inside the ship.

Gladly, the hallways were mostly empty; most of the passengers already retired to their quarters or caught up in conversations in the dining hall.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Somewhere secret", he replied, heading towards the next elevator.

As they stepped in, he ordered the steward to go down, ignoring the surprised expression on his face. As the elevator halted, she realized they had reached a more… industrial part of the ship. The hallways weren't decorated anymore, the walls being just plain white.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked again as he moved forward.

"It's a surprise", he said with an almost boyish grin, then looked at her. "Don't you trust me?"

"I do, but…"

He stopped and looked at her. "Are you afraid I might lead you to my quarters, miss? I know some of my colleagues have done that."

She stared at him. "No. No. I actually never thought you would do that."

"And I wouldn't. I mean, not that I… I just don't think that is the right way to treat a lady." He sighed and shook his head. "Maybe we could just move on? Before I risk my neck with my careless talk?"

"Yes, of course", she said.

He smiled slightly, then took her arm. A few minutes later, they arrived at the cargo hold. He opened the door and let her in.

"Miss Khairay, I present you the secret vault of treasures", he said.

She let go off his arm and made a few steps inside, her eyes wide with astonishment. "Oh my god", she whispered and turned to him. "Do all these things belong to passengers?"

He grinned at her excitement. "Indeed, miss. The rich and royals have brought everything mankind can think of. It almost didn't fit into the ship."

Her eyes fell on a brand new Mercedes and she walked forward to have a look. "Why would anyone bring a car? Aren't there enough in America?"

"Well, I suppose if you've got one like that, you want to show it off", he said, joining up with her.

She turned around and looked at the inscription of the boxes beside her. "Toys. Paintings. Dishes. Seriously? Dishes?"

"If we search this, we might actually find the Ark of Covenant inside here", he joked.

"Or the crown jewels", she said and shook her head. "This is ridiculous. My belongings fit into two suitcases."

"That's kind of extravagant, miss. I just needed one."

"I am a woman, first officer Murdoch. I can't just dress in one coat and look good, or people will not only regard me as a bastard, but also as a street rat."

"No one with sense would ever do that, miss", he said kindly.

She sat down on one of the boxes. "This is certainly overwhelming", she said.

He sat down beneath her. "Yes, it is. It makes you wonder what people that rich actually do the whole day."

"Well, they must have tons of money, that's for sure", she replied, still completely taken aback by the surroundings.

After a few minutes of silence, she looked at him.

"What do you like the most?" she asked.

He looked around and shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't mind owning the Mercedes. If I could choose. What about you?" he asked.

She blinked her eyes, then finally replied: "Your coat."

He laughed shortly and shook his head. "No, from all the things down here."

"Your coat", she repeated.

The grin on his face vanished immediately.

"Why?" he asked confused.

"It is a very likeable coat. Don't you think?"

He stared at her and suddenly knew Lightoller had been right on this one as well. He was drawn to her. The way she always remained calm, despite the odds, the way her green eyes looked at him, the way she cheered him up by her mere presence… He swallowed, not knowing what to say or do. They were all alone done there, but this didn't make him feel comfortable. On the contrary.

He lowered his gaze and his eyes fell on his watch.

"Oh, damn it", he swore. "Sorry, miss. I didn't…"

"What is the matter?" she asked and rose.

"My shift starts in five minutes." He looked back up to her. "I am sorry, but we have to hurry back."

He actually wanted to take her arm, but somehow, he didn't. Instead, he rushed forward, waiting for her to follow him.

As they reached the elevator, he ordered the steward to get them to the second class floor without further ado.

As they stepped off he hesitated, looking on his watch again.

"I can get to my quarters on my own", she said.

He looked at her. "Are you certain?" he asked.

She nodded her head.

"Alright, then", he said and hurried off, turning around shortly. "Goodbye."

The next second, he was gone. Alice felt stunned. _Goodbye._

She knew she shouldn't have made that silly comment about his coat, but she hadn't been able to just keep her mouth shut. This was her childish self again, the girl dreaming of a prince rescuing her, knowing it would never be that way. It seemed she had really gotten carried away and she knew she had to stop imagining things that were impossible. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but feel miserable as she went back to her quarters.

* * *

 _14.04.1912_

Alice spent almost the whole day in her quarters yet again, before she decided that was ridiculously useless. Whether she hid there or went back on deck would surely make no difference. He probably was on duty after all. And even if he wasn't and didn't show up, there was nothing she could do about it.

After all, she couldn't just go up to the bridge, or even better, to his quarters, apologize for her inappropriate comment and beg him to just forget it, could she?

As she arrived on deck, she took a deep breath and looked at the dark sea under her. So far, this journey had been more confusing than her whole life. She wondered if other women had the same problem. Probably not. Upper class women usually faced arranged marriages, so there was no possibility to make a complete fool of oneself. For a second, Alice actually envied them.

"Good evening, miss", someone behind her said.

She turned around and looked at him. "First officer Murdoch" she replied, completely taken aback.

"Are you surprised to see me?" he asked.

"To be honest, I had the impression I said something that offended you yesterday evening and did not think you would return."

"Heaven's no! I… How would you come to this?"

She looked at him, but did not reply.

"Is it because I left you at the second class? I really didn't mean to, but I…"

"No, no", she replied and shook her head. "You said goodbye. It sounded… final."

"That wasn't my intention, miss. I admit, you said something about my coat that set me off, but…"

Her eyes widened. "Please excuse me if I have insulted you. Or been inappropriate. My governess has tried to teach me to be unobtrusive, but sometimes, I fear I say something I mean well, but should never say aloud. I am very sorry."

"I was just surprised, miss. Please, don't worry about it", he hurried to say.

"Okay", she replied, but still felt rather doubtful.

"Really, miss. I shouldn't be making such a fuss, it's just… There were many pretty things down there. A lot prettier than a coat."

"Pretty, yes. Likeable – not really", she replied.

He shook his head. "I've never met someone so unimpressed by expensive things. Most women would have fainted just seeing them."

She shrugged her shoulders. "They may be expensive, but they mean nothing."

"And my coat means something?"

"Will you bid me goodbye again if I answer this?" she asked, knowing this was rather blunt again. But somehow, she felt so upset, so _raw_ that she couldn't stop it.

He stared at her. "No, miss."

She hesitated for a moment, then said quietly: "It means something. And it is… very likeable." She stopped and, to distract from her former words, asked: "Don't you think so?"

"I've never… seen it that way, miss", he replied honestly.

"Well, I suppose there are others that like it", she said.

He looked at her and she thought he could see right through her, right into her mind where she hid all the foolishness.

"Not that I know miss", he finally replied. "Lightoller just said today that I look like a penguin."

For a second, she just stared at him. Then, she couldn't help but laugh. He blinked, but gladly chuckled himself.

"Well, he's got a point, I suppose. It is a little bit too big", he added.

She stopped laughing and looked at him. "He's got no point at all. It is… how do they say it? Dashing?"

"Now you're mocking me, miss", he said.

"Not at all. It looks… very impressive, with the tie and the gloves."

"Don't forget the hat."

She blinked, but did not reply.

"Something is wrong with the hat", he stated.

"No, no… it's alright", she said.

"It keeps me warm", he protested slightly.

"Yes, of course," she said, but didn't sound convinced.

"You don't know what you're talking about", he said, took off his hat and with a swift motion, put it onto hers. "See? Warm", he said.

She said nothing, just looked up at him. His hair was brown, with just a few streaks of grey. For the first time in her life, she cursed her background. If she could be someone acceptable, someone not socially marked, maybe, just maybe…

"Well, I suppose you're right. It's not very fashionable", he said and took the hat off of her head, putting it back on.

Silence fell between them, before he finally said: "I must admit, I've never met anyone like you, miss."

"Yes, I have heard my skin color is very exotic", she replied calmly.

"Your skin color does not matter to me."

"I've never met anyone like you, as well, first officer Murdoch", she replied.

He smiled slightly. "I am glad to hear that." He looked at his watch. "I will be starting my shift soon. Will you stay for some more time? I could maybe pass here around twelve."

"That's not a suitable time for a lady to be up and out on her own", she said. "But luckily, I still don't qualify for a lady."

"I still think you do, miss. But I am glad you can make an exception of ladylike behavior for me. I promise not to misuse it."

"I never thought you would", she replied honestly.

"I'll see you then, miss", he said.

She smiled and nodded, while he turned around and headed back to the bridge.

* * *

It was a quiet night, just like the others. After checking with the other officers on duty, Murdoch left the wheelhouse and walked over to the rail. He could see the woman standing down there. After a few minutes, she turned around and looked up at him.

He winked at her and immediately felt stupid. What the hell was he thinking, behaving like a schoolboy? That sure didn't impress her at all. He sighed and fixed his eyes back to the ocean. Suddenly, he believed he could see something in the dark, something… big. He blinked. _No, no, it can't be…_ he thought, then he ran over to the wheelhouse.

Just as he arrived, an officer came out. He could not even remember his name.

"Iceberg right ahead", the officer said, a lot calmer than the situation actually required.

"Hard to starboard", Murdoch shouted, then rushed over to set the engines full astern.

As soon as he had turned the handles, he rushed back on deck, staring at the danger right in front of them.

"Hard over, sir."

The ship didn't turn even a little bit.

"Is it hard over?" he shouted.

"It is, hard over, sir", came the swift reply.

But the stubborn ship still didn't move.

"Come on. Come on. Come on, turn", he muttered.

Finally, the titanic slowly turned to the left.

"Yes. Yes. Come on", he said, trying to make the impossible possible, trying to talk the ship into turning just enough to pass this damn iceberg right ahead.

For a few, grateful seconds he actually believed it would happen. Then, the sailor at front shouted: "It's gonna hit!"

In the next second, there was a disgusting sound and a vibration through the whole ship. He could feel it on the rail, through his gloves. It lasted only seconds, but he thought he had never heard a more alarming noise. He looked down on the second class deck. Luckily, the woman had gripped the rail right in front of her tightly.

He turned, heading back to the wheelhouse to close the water tight doors. He could feel the sweat on his forehead as the control panel lit up. He turned around and said: "Note the time and enter it in the log."

In the very same moment, Captain Smith stepped on the bridge.

"What was that, Mister Murdoch?" he asked, his voice stern.

"An iceberg, sir", he replied, taking a deep breath. "I put her hard to starboard and ran the engines full astern, but it was too close…. I tried to port around it but she hit and…"

"Close the watertight doors", Smith said.

"The doors are closed, sir", he replied.

The captain rushed over to the deck and he followed him afoot, his mind completely empty. He wanted to explain, but did not know how. The captain had never trusted him and now, he had allowed the ship to collide with one of the greatest dangers on the ocean.

"All stop", Smith ordered and he wanted to turn, but the captain stopped him. "Find the carpenter. He shall examine the damages."

"Yes sir", he replied and hurried off.

* * *

Half an hour later, Murdoch found himself on the bridge, together with the other officers, Ismay, Andrews, the carpenter and Captain Smith.

"Most unfortunate captain," Ismay said sharply, shooting a glance at Murdoch.

The captain, however, just ignored him, his focus lying only on Andrews.

"Water, fourteen feet above the keel in ten minutes. In the forepeak, in all three holds and in boiler room 6", the man said.

"That's right sir."

"When can we get on the way, damn it?" Ismay asked.

"That's five compartments!" Andrews said loudly. Murdoch had never heard the man raise his voice before. "She can stay afloat with the first four compartments breached, but not five. Not five. When she goes down by the head, the water will spill over the tops of the bulkheads, at each deck, from one to the next, back and back. There's no stopping it."

Smith pointed on the plan on the table. "The pumps. If we open…"

Andrews shook his head immediately. "The pumps buy you time, but minutes only. From this moment, no matter what we do, titanic will founder."

"But this ship can't sink", Ismay contradicted.

"She's built out of iron, sir, I assure you, she can. And she will. It is a mathematical certainty", Andrews said.

"How much time?" Smith asked.

"An hour. Two at most", Andrews replied.

"And how many on board, Mr. Murdoch?" Smith asked.

He took a deep breath. "2.200 souls on board sir."

The room went very silent. Finally, Smith turned to Ismay: "Well, I believe you may get your headlines, Mr. Ismay."

 **Another chapter done. If you want to tell me what you think, please don't hesitate. I really appreciate it. If you want to point out grammar errors or such, feel free to do this as well. English is not my first language but it is my favorite, so I am glad for every suggestion to improve it.**


	4. Death

**Author's Note:**

I took the liberty of adding another ship to save the survivors of the Titanic, for the sake of the storyline. I know, of course, that there was never another one. But since this is a work of fiction, I hope you'll forgive me. Also, I had fate interfere with James Cameron's portrayal of Murdoch shooting himself. Since it has never been proven whether he actually shot himself or not, I think this is justified.

Now, to more important things: thank you, LaueeeCarter, for your kind review. I have fixed the grammar mistakes you pointed out. I am glad you like the interactions between Will/Alice and Will/Lightoller. All of them will face difficult times ahead and they sure need each other, even though there may be times they don't realize that.

And thank you, LostarielTuigalen, for the follow.

 **Chapter 4: Death**

" _Those who do not weep, do not see."  
(Victor Hugo, Les Misérables)_

 _15.04.1912_

Captain Smith ordered to begin with the evacuation immediately. Murdoch still couldn't believe it was actually happening. Why, just why, hadn't the ship _turned_? Why?

"Will, your whistle," Lightoller said and held it out to him.

He stared at the man as if he didn't even know him.

"Will, are you alright?" his friend asked concerned.

"I'll lower the lifeboats on the starboard side. You take backboard," he replied automatically.

"Okay," Charles said.

Murdoch turned, as the other man grabbed his arm. "You know that's not your fault, right? Don't do anything stupid, yes?"

He looked at him one last time, then shook his hand off, hurrying towards the deck.

Outside, chief officer Wilde caught him. "Jesus Christ, Murdoch. What happened?" he asked. He did not sound reproachful, just… confused.

"I don't know," he replied shortly. And it was the truth. He had taken the ship hard to starboard, he had set the engines full astern – it had been the only possible way to avoid the collision – or had he forgotten something? No. No, he was sure he hadn't.

"We have to hurry," he told the chief officer.

The man nodded. "Damn it. This is going to be terrible," he muttered and rushed off.

Murdoch didn't even look after him. Instead, he helped the sailors get the lifeboats ready, his eyes falling onto the lower deck for just a second.

Passengers were standing there, talking, wandering around in confusion – and she was in the middle of them.

Officer Moody walked past him and he grabbed him.

"Are the passengers informed?" he asked.

"Yes sir. The stewards take care of that," Moody replied.

"There are people on deck. Who's taking care of them?"

"I don't know, sir. I…"

"Well, see to it, damn it!" he shouted at the young man, who immediately snapped to attention.

"Yes sir, of course sir," he said and dashed off.

"Bloody hell," Murdoch muttered and took a deep breath. Shouting would not make the situation any better. He needed to stay calm, but it seemed so hard, knowing they would never get all the passengers in the lifeboats; knowing a lot of them were doomed to drown, unless a ship would come for their rescue.

He hesitated for a second, then turned to the sailors: "Get it ready. I'll be back in a second."

He hurried down the stairs and rushed through the hallways. As he jumped around the next corner, he almost bumped into the woman.

"What is happening?" she asked. "We hit, didn't we?"

"The ship is sinking," he said.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "What?"

"You need a life vest. Where is your life vest?"

"In my quarters, but…"

"Get it. Get it and come back to the lifeboats on starboard. I'll be launching them. I'll get you off the ship," he told her, looking at her insistently.

"But…" she repeated.

He grabbed her shoulders. "We don't have enough lifeboats for all the passengers. You need to hurry. Do you understand? Get your life vest, leave the rest and come back to me."

She nodded and he let go off her. He watched her as she hurried down the hallway, then rushed back on deck, just as Captain Smith came out of the wheelhouse.

"Mister Murdoch," the captain said, his expression like stone.

"Yes, sir?" he asked.

"The next ship will need four hours to reach us."

He stared at him. "But… that's not nearly fast enough," he said.

"I know. I know." The captain looked around, then patted his shoulder. "See to the evacuation. Get as many off the ship as you can."

Murdoch stared at him, but Smith just turned, his steps uneven. The first officer did not know what stressed him out more – the news, or the hopelessness in the Captain's voice. Smith was, after all, one of White Star Line's model captains, an experienced sailor, a man known for his discipline - and now, he had given up on them.

* * *

Under deck, Alice rushed to her quarters. _The ship is sinking…_

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. The Titanic couldn't sink… Yet, they had hit the iceberg, she had felt the vibration, heard the cry of the ship.

And he had told her, just minutes ago, that the ship would founder.

What disturbed her the most, however, what made it almost impossible to believe that this was happening, were the empty hallways. She had expected a panic, people hurrying around, but it was silent, so very silent.

She opened the doors to her quarters and grabbed the life vest from under the bed, looking at her two suitcases. There was nothing precious in them. The only precious thing she could think of on the whole ship was an officer's coat.

He would get off the ship. They needed experienced people on board of the lifeboats, didn't they? On the other hand, if the officers were needed in the lifeboats when a ship sank, why were there always stories about them going down with the ship?

She stopped in her movements. She was fooling herself. Yesterday, she had fooled herself by painting a picture, silly and stupid, of him getting off board with her when the ship arrived in New York. Now, she fooled herself by painting a picture of him surviving. He would not leave the ship, not if there were still any passengers on board. And he had said there weren't enough lifeboats, so there would be passengers on board when the ship finally sank.

Alice sat down on her bed and took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do – how could she hope to persuade him to leave? What could she even say – stay alive for me, because I think I have become quite attached to your coat and your kindness and your eyes?

She did not even know why she felt this way, or what she really felt – she had met a few men even in her confinement; the baker's son, who had brought them bread, who had played with her in the woods, until it wasn't acceptable anymore for two children of different gender to stroll around together. Or later, her governess' nephew, who had bought her chocolate and told her she had "the most remarkable eyes", only to be rebuked by his aunt. He had only teased her, she was pretty sure of it, but nevertheless, the chocolate had tasted better than it usually had. She had dreamed of Douglas Fairbanks, as probably most young women had, but she had never actually met a man she had felt so comfortable with, so drawn to. Someone she wished to spend time with every day, to listen to, to laugh with.

And now, that man couldn't be saved, no matter how much she wished for it.

Slowly, she rose and put on the life vest.

* * *

First officer Murdoch helped the first women and children into the lifeboat, looking at the crowd. What the hell was she doing? Hadn't he been pretty clear she needed to hurry?

For a second, he wanted to leave his current position and rush off to save her, but he knew he couldn't. And he knew he would not. It was his duty to save everyone, not just one person, even though none of the passengers meant more to him.

How had that even happened? He had just wanted to be polite and then, her calmness, her polite interest and her eyes – god damn those eyes – had changed everything.

He shook his head to cast the thought aside, as he suddenly spotted her behind the line of first class men who were waiting for their children and wives to get on the lifeboat.

He made a few steps forward, through the people and took her hand.

"There you are. What the hell took you so long?" he asked and looked at her. "Never mind. Come, I'll help you get in."

He almost dragged her over to the boat, but as he wanted to put her in, she grabbed his arm.

"What about you?" she asked.

 _I'm going down with the ship,_ he thought, somehow very certain this would actually be his fate.

"I have to supervise the evacuation. I'll be alright," he replied.

It was a lie and she knew it. For a second, she just stared at him, then she grabbed him tighter.

"I know you are a dutiful man and I should not even be asking this", she said and her voice seemed unsteady. "But please… Promise me that you will save yourself... If anyhow possible… Please."

He stared at her, stunned. _I want to invite you to dinner,_ he thought _. I want to invite you to dinner, buy you little pretty nonsense and care for you._

It was stupid, of course. They would not have dinner and he would never buy her useless things. All he could do right now was care for her safety.

"God damn it," he muttered, his voice desperate. "Please, you have to get in this boat. I beg you."

"Promise me," she said again.

"Yes," he replied and that too, was a lie.

She lowered her gaze and finally, let him help her into the boat. He stepped back, his eyes fixed on her, wishing she would look at him one last time, give him one last memory to hold on to. _I should have kissed her, yesterday,_ he thought and that too, was remarkably stupid.

"Take them down," he shouted over to the two sailors.

As the boat began to lower, she finally looked up. She kept her eyes focused on him the whole time and he silently cursed fate and icebergs and the whole ship itself, until the boat hit the water and the two sailors on board began rowing them out of his sight, out of his reach.

"Sir, shall we get the next one ready?" one of the sailors asked.

He did not reply.

"Sir!" the sailor shouted.

Finally, he came back to his senses. "Yes," he muttered. "Get it ready."

* * *

He let down lifeboat after lifeboat. At first, the passengers were very calm, most of them not even showing up, immune to the danger lurking in the shadows. But as the water conquered deck after deck after deck, things got messy. Very messy indeed.

At the peak of the turmoil, Wilde suddenly showed up beside him, handing out his revolver.

"Take it, Will. You'll need it more than I do," he said and left.

Murdoch shouted after him, asked him where the hell he was going, but the man didn't reply. He knew he should go after him, or at least sent Lowe to check on the man - but he didn't. The revolver in his hand felt terribly misplaced in that second. He had never been keen on guns. But the crowd in front of him became angrier and angrier, and suddenly, he appreciated the weight of the gun in his hand.

They lowered all the lifeboats, until there was just one left, positioned on the deck above them. He managed to get it down with the help of four other officers, but by the time they were finished, the people were not listening anymore. He tried to reason them, tried to tell them that women and children would go first, but they just didn't listen. He fired a warning shot, but to no avail.

As one man jumped over Lowe, he found himself aiming at him, ready to fire. And he would have fired; he would have shot him down like a dog, if the sea hadn't suddenly washed them over, tearing them down into the cold water.

He lost his grip on the revolver, desperately trying to make out the surface. But the dark water was unyielding and hell, it was cold, so fucking cold.

After seconds that felt like hours, the sea finally calmed itself and he could see a light above him. He swam up, the cold feeling like knives stuck inside his body.

As he reached the surface, he took a deep breath, his body shaking. Around him, people screamed with fear. The lifeboat had turned over, some people trying to turn it, while others just grabbed onto it for safety. He knew it was too late now. They would never be able to get in it.

The Titanic itself was now rising dreadfully in the air, one of the chimneys breaking, falling down into the ocean, onto some passengers, muffling their screams.

The sea he loved so much had turned into a dark pit of chaos, destruction and death. He felt betrayed. Betrayed by his greatest love.

In the near distance, he could spot some lifeboats still way too close to the ship, apparently unable to get away from it. For a second, he did not know what to do. The people around him were impossible to save, at least without a lifeboat. But if he could manage to get one of the boats to safety first and then to turn around, he would probably be able to help them. If they survived so long in the icy waters.

He began to swim, his soaked clothes now feeling way too heavy, dragging him into the deep. As he finally reached the lifeboat closest to him, a familiar voice said:

"Will, damn it!"

He looked up to see Lightoller standing at the front of the lifeboat, holding out his hand. He had never been so glad to see the man. At least, he wasn't alone. At least, there was someone who understood. Lightoller helped him get into the boat and then said:

"Glad you're here, mate. These rich bastards can't even row a boat. Get the left oar, will you?"

He reacted automatically. His hands felt frozen, as the rest of his body, but he grabbed the oar and they rowed the boat away from the ship, away from the screams, away from death.

As they had reached a safe distance, he let go off the oar and rose.

"I need to get back," he said.

Lightoller stared at him. "Are you out of your mind? The water is ice cold, you'll drown in minutes! You'll never reach them!"

"I have to help them!"

"You can't help them, you fool! Now sit down!" his friend shouted.

"Turn the boat around!" he said.

"Are you mental? They'll just throw us over!"

"This is an order, second officer Lightoller!" he said sharply, his hands shaking. Damn, why the hell were his hands shaking?

"I don't give a shit about your orders!" his friend shouted. "When things have calmed down, we'll go back. Now, we gotta take care of these passengers we saved, or do you want them to die as well?"

Murdoch stared at him, then tried to reach the side of the boat.

Lightoller grabbed him at his shoulder. "Sit down or I swear I'll take you down! Don't force me, Will, you know you stand no chance against me when it comes to mere strength!"

Murdoch stared at him, trying to push him off, but he was too strong. With a hard push, Lightoller forced him down. "Get down, you idiot," he snapped. "I'm not losing you as well!"

Eventually, he gave up. He turned his gaze away from his friend, to the ship. The Titanic had broken in two pieces, one already swept away by the sea, the other rising out of it in a vertical angle, before it was finally pulled down as well.

In minutes, the screams faded. Murdoch closed his eyes. The cold had already turned his body numb and he found it impossible to open his eyes again. From afar, he could hear Charles talking to him, but his words did not reach him anymore. He fell unconscious.

* * *

Lightoller, however, kept his promise, despite the fact that his friend had already blacked out. After the Titanic had sunken, he turned the boat around and searched for survivors. He found only two. One of them died after half an hour in the lifeboat.

He tried to keep everyone warm with blankets, even wrapping his own coat around his friend, but still, it seemed to take forever until finally, the Livingston arrived and picked them up. He tried to wake Murdoch, but to no avail. Maybe it was for the better. He didn't have to see all the people floating in the sea, lifeless.

The Livingston did not have enough space to offer all survivors a cabin, but two of the officers took them in. Suddenly, Lightoller found himself in the position of changing his friends wet and frozen clothes for something the officers lent them – and he couldn't help but chuckle at the weirdness of the situation. He still chuckled as he stuffed Murdoch under each and every blanket he could find in the room, before finally, his chuckles turned to sobs and he buried his face in his hands, allowing the tragedy to finally sink in.

* * *

Alice never turned her eyes away from the Titanic. Even as the ship had sunken, even as the screams had died, she still stared into the night. Beside her, children and women were crying endlessly, but she did not shed a tear. She couldn't.

An eternity seemed to pass before they were finally picked up by the Carpathia. They made room in the cabins for them, but it was very crowded. She found herself in a bed with a little girl that couldn't stop whimpering.

Alice still waited for her tears to come, but it seemed as if her body and mind had raised a wall of numbness, through which no feeling was allowed to pass. Eventually, she closed her eyes and fell asleep, one arm wrapped around the daughter of a stranger who hadn't made it.

On the next morning, she walked up to the deck. Countless people were standing there, some of them just staring into the distance, others searching for their relatives, husbands, children.

An officer approached her, asking her for her name and she gave it to him, finally asking the one question she didn't actually want to be answered: "Excuse me, officer," she said. "I was wondering if… First officer Murdoch, did he make it?"

He looked at her and shook his head slowly. "We didn't pick up any officer by this name, miss."

She closed her eyes. "Thank you," she muttered.

She had known it. She had known it the second he had said he would be alright.

She had known it and still had believed fate would actually have mercy – but fate hadn't been merciful to anyone that night. Finally, she felt tears running down her cheeks, but she wiped them away hastily. It was over. It was just... over.

She looked around the deck and moved forward to the rail. As she stood there, however, her hands wrapped around the steel, her eyes focused on the ocean, she felt nothing. The view she had cherished so much had lost all its meaning.

Slowly, she went back to her cabin and crawled under the sheets, the little girl already waiting for her, wrapping her skinny arms around her.

 **The Titanic sank – now, we need to face the aftermath. Please, as always, let me know what you think so far.**


	5. Lost

**Author's Note:**

The internet is a lovely place… You search for the salary of an officer around 1910 and you find something. I don't know if it's really accurate, but I guessed Murdoch's salary for 18 pounds. I also checked up the exchange rate for dollars and pounds and came to the conclusion that 1 pound was around 4,86 dollars by that time. Just in case you wondered how I chose the rate of the lawyer in the following chapter. I've got no clue what lawyers earned in 1912, but I bet they've always been expensive.

Thank you, LaueeeCarter, for your kind review. I'm keeping my eyes open for the comma mistakes. I'm glad you liked the last chapter and Lightoller's portrayal – I've always believed he's a strong character.

 **Chapter 5: Lost**

" _Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"  
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."  
"I don't much care where –"  
"Then it doesn't matter which way you go."  
(Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland)_

Alice arrived in New York on the 18th April 1912, but she felt nothing. The Carpathia passed the statue of liberty, a sight she had been secretly craving, but now left her completely untouched. Later, she would remember the whole day as nothing but a blur; her actions seeming all automatic to her.

Somehow, she managed to find the address of the lawyer's office her governess had repeated to her over and over and written on at least ten pages. Pages that were all lost in the ocean now.

As she arrived, she was led directly to Mr. Miller, the chairman, who told her they had thought she was dead, since her name had been misspelled on the survivor's list and had hired another secretary for Mr. Herald, the man she should have been assigned to.

He offered her a job nevertheless, as a secretary for a much younger, inexperienced lawyer named Baker, for less money, but she took it immediately. He also gave her an address where she hired a flat that had the size of a teacup but was all hers, and promised to send a note to her parents.

She started working the next day. The newspapers were full with the titanic disaster. She read none of them. She caught the other secretaries chatting about her, but ignored it completely.

It appeared almost as if her mind didn't want to cope with it – the sinking, the screams, the final silence. She had always been calm, but doubted this was calmness, more denial. Yet, she just left it at that. She did not want to hear anything about it, read anything about it or know anything about it.

Luckily, Mr. Baker had tons of unfinished paperwork just waiting for her. He was a young, lanky man with dark blond hair and blue eyes, polite and modest, very different to what she had pictured a lawyer to be like.

However, there were seconds in which her self-control wavered. Seconds in which her mind trailed off. In these seconds, she never went back to the lifeboat, or the moment when she saw the ship sink. In these seconds, her mind was always set on a blue navy coat, a pair of blue eyes and a boyish grin.

 _It's a surprise._

And Alice lost her ability to breathe.

On the fifth day, one of the secretaries, Rosie Waterton, approached her and asked her if she wanted to "go out" with all of them after work. For a second, she felt just as stunned as the first time William Murdoch had approached her, but quickly cast the thought aside and accepted, even though she wasn't sure what "going out" meant. The evening was rather awkward – except for Rosie, no one talked to her – but the quirky redhead really made an effort to get to know her and continued talking to her the next day. She even gave her a few clothes she didn't wear anymore.

On the sixth day, Mr. Miller called her in, handing over a cheque from her father. Miller told her her father was glad she was alive, and hoped the cheque would help her, since she had lost all her belongings.

Alice still felt nothing. She knew she should have been grateful, but she wasn't. Rosie, however, could not hide her excitement. She went on raving about stores in New York they should go to, until Alice finally accepted. As they were shopping, she tried to tell the woman she didn't deserve her courtesy – but she only laughed, telling her she was happy someone finally didn't tell her her constant talking was annoying. Alice found that most peculiar. To her, there was nothing wrong with Rosie, even though the woman's daring behavior would have shocked her governess deeply.

* * *

William McMaster Murdoch arrived in New York on the 19th April 1912. With him was Charles Lightoller, who despite having to cope with the disaster himself, could not help but worry about his friend. Will had not spoken a word since the accident. He had lain in bed, either staring at the ceiling, or when Lightoller tried to finally get him to speak, staring at the wall, ignoring him on purpose.

He had left the cabin only once, but his face had been even darker as he had come back. Lightoller had asked him what was wrong. He hadn't replied.

The former second officer tried to reduce the damage by explaining thousands and thousands of times why he hadn't allowed him to leave the lifeboat, why none of this had been Murdoch's fault, but he never got a reply. Eventually, he reached a point where he wanted Will to shout at him, maybe even hit him, just so he would finally react.

But he didn't.

As they finally got on land, they were surrounded by White Star Line employees. There was an inquiry. Immediately.

The men separated them for the whole duration of the thing, six days in which Lightoller saw nothing but a small room or the interrogators.

 _Officer Lightoller, where were you when the titanic collided with the iceberg?_

 _Officer Lightoller, how was the evacuation carried out?_

And – the worst of them all: _Officer Lightoller, do you think first officer Murdoch made a mistake by trying to take the Titanic hard to starboard?_

They did not mention Ismay with a single word and it pissed him off. The bastard had pressured Smith to increase the speed. Why the hell did no one acknowledge that?

Despite this, as the inquiry was over, Lightoller did not think much of it. The sinking of the titanic had been an accident, an unfortunate series of events. It hadn't been the fault of one man and even though he really didn't like the jerks of White Star Line, he was sure they would realize that.

He was taught better, as he met Murdoch in front of the building, holding a suspicious letter.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

His friend looked at him – the deep shadows under his eyes making him look at least ten years older – and held the letter out to him, acknowledging the first time Lightoller was actually there.

Charles took it. It was printed on White Star Line paper and informed William McMaster Murdoch, first officer of the Titanic, that the prosecution had decided, after the results of the inquiry, to charge him with involuntary homicide. It also said that White Star Line was sorry, but because of the public pressure, they would not, as in other cases, care for his lawyerly counsel, but that they would pay him a three month salary to make sure he could afford one.

Charles stared at the paper, then at Will, and ripped to whole shit to shreds.

"We're getting you a lawyer. And you'll need a place to stay," he said.

His friend looked at him. "You should have left me there," he replied tonelessly.

For a second, Lightoller just felt happy to hear him speak, as strange as it sounded, but that feeling was quickly overruled by anger.

"Will, you are not guilty. This is utter nonsense. White Star Line just wants to save its ass, and they're trying to assure this by blaming yours. You need to fight this!"

The man looked at him. "They can have me."

And he walked off.

Charles was thunderstruck. He hurried after his friend and grabbed him.

"Damn it, Will!" he said angrily. "No one wins anything if you let the world believe you caused this! The people have a right to know what happened, even if that means we have to tell them what did not happen!"

"What if it was my fault?"

Charles stared at him. "If it was, if it really was, then you can give yourself up. But until then, I will not allow it. Do you hear me? I will not allow it! Even if I have to drag you to a lawyer, even if I have to give you all my money – I will see that this case is treated just. This is an affront for each and every officer and I will not have it. Do you get that?"

His friend did not meet his gaze, but finally nodded his head. "Alright."

"Good," Charles said. "Good. I'll ask my sister-in-law if she knows a good lawyer; after all, her husband has been in some trouble with his company before. She might know someone."

"Ok," Will replied.

"She might also know a cheap place to stay. You won't come far with the little White Star Line gives you. Do you have any savings?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I've got some, too. I'll help you out."

Murdoch looked at him. "Charles…"

"No, Will! I'm not taking anymore of your crap. This time, you'll do as I say," he said, in a tone that forbid any arguing.

* * *

Lightoller kept his promise. By the evening, the man had not only managed to find the address of a lawyer, but also an apartment where he could stay. Murdoch wondered slightly if this was his friend's way of coping – by saving his ass.

He knew he should be grateful, but his mind was completely empty.

As Lightoller left him, not without pointing out he was expected to meet his lawyer at ten a.m. the next morning and that he would kick his ass to Tokyo if he didn't – he sat down on the small bed.

He still did not understand how all of it had happened. Why had the Titanic foundered, a ship that had been praised as unsinkable? On its first passage? And why hadn't he been able to avoid it? And how the hell was he supposed to fight a lawsuit when there was the possibility that it was justified?

He closed his eyes, trying to cast everything aside.

 _It is very likeable, don't you think?_

He sat up immediately. Her name had not been on the survivor's list. He had asked the communication officer of the Livingston to check for it, but it hadn't been on it. But he had put her in the first lifeboat. Why hadn't she been saved? Why hadn't all the people been saved? And why, why had Lightoller not allowed him to go back? He could have saved them, he knew he could have – or he could have at least died among them, as it had been his duty, as Smith had done, as Wilde had done...

It was useless to think about it. Useless to think about anything. All the people were dead. And maybe because of him.

* * *

The next morning, he dressed in a shirt and trousers Lightoller's sister-in-law had given him. The clothes did not exactly fit and he missed a tie, but actually, he didn't care much. He left the apartment and searched for the lawyer's office. As he finally arrived, he looked up at the building. It appeared modern and god damn, it was _high_.

He wondered slightly if he would even be able to afford their services as he entered the building. Signs pointed out the offices he searched for were on the first floor, so he took the stairs and passed various doors before he ended up in a very large room.

Eight women were sitting on their desks, busy with files and phones and he wondered slightly how many lawyers actually worked there.

He looked around, spotting a woman on his left, her back turned to him, concentrating on a paper in her hands.

He decided to walk over, as she seemed less distracted than her colleague on the right, a redhead, talking loudly on the phone.

"Excuse me," he said. "I have an appointment with Mr. Herald."

The woman turned around and for a second, the ground underneath his feet ceased to exist.

She was alive. She was alive and sitting right in front of him.

"First officer Murdoch," she said, simply. If she was as shocked as he was, she hid that under a remarkable blank expression.

"Mr. Herald?" he asked again, not knowing what else to say. What was there to say? How the hell can you be alive, when your name wasn't on the survivor's list? Or: Sorry, miss, I sank the ship?

"Mr. Herald awaits you in his office," she said automatically. "Do you wish a cup of coffee? Or tea?"

He just shook his head, walking over to the office she had pointed out, actually rushing as if the devil was behind him. Was he hallucinating? Did he lose his mind?

He opened the door to the office in front of him, thinking of nothing but escaping the situation, and found himself in another large office. An elder man sat in front of an expensive looking mahogany desk, looking up as he entered.

"Good morning, Mr. Herald. I am…" he began, but was cut off immediately.

"First officer Murdoch. I am very aware of who you are. As is the whole world," he said and held out the Times newspaper of the day.

Murdoch stared at the headline. _First officer of the Titanic being accused of causing the disaster._

They had even printed a picture of him on the left.

"How did they get my picture?" he muttered.

"Easy. White Star Line must have given it to them."

He stared at the lawyer in irritation.

"Are you surprised?" the man asked. "You shouldn't be. This is going to be dirty. Luckily, you have decided to consult us. However, I am afraid I have to tell you right away that this is going to be a very difficult case and I cannot promise you will just walk free. White Star Line needs a scapegoat, so do the people. And now that your name is out there, a lot of people already think you did it."

"Sir, I am not sure if I didn't."

Mr. Herald looked at him sternly. "If we want to have any chance at all, I must ask you to never say that again. To no one. Whether you did it or not is not your decision, neither is it mine. It will be decided by court, and by court only. Since the case is very risky, I am afraid I must also ask you to pay a third of my rate in advance. It's 530 dollars. As soon as the verdict is decided, I will charge another 1.060 dollars."

Murdoch just nodded. It was more than a year's salary and considering he was not employed anymore, it would rip his savings to shreds. But he also knew what Lightoller would say if he backed out because of money. And honestly, he neither had the will, nor the strength to fight with the man right now.

"Now, to the more pressing matters. I have already texted White Star Line to send me your files. Is there anything in them I should know? Most of all accidents caused, even small ones?"

"No. No, there isn't," he replied.

"Good. I must also make clear that you will never, not at any time, speak to the press. If it is unavoidable, I will handle it for you. Understood?"

"Yes."

"You may find this stern, Mr. Murdoch and since you are used to give orders, I expect you will not find it easy. It is, however, crucially that you follow my lead on every little detail. Otherwise, this assignment won't do any good to you or me."

"I understand."

Mr. Herald nodded and sighed. "Sadly, there is another point. One of our secretaries has been on the Titanic – Miss Khairay. I don't suppose you know her?"

 _I knew her, once,_ he thought. "No, sir. I can't remember the name," he replied, without really knowing why he lied.

"Yes, of course not," his lawyer said. "Well, she will surely not be asked to testify in court, given she's only a woman, but the press hunts down every survivor, regardless of gender or age. We must avoid a leak in our own office at any cost. I therefore advise you to talk to her and make clear that this was not your fault. She seems to be a reasonable young woman, so I suppose she will understand."

Murdoch stared at him. "But sir, clearly you can talk to her yourself and…"

"I could. But it will be far more effective if you do it on your own. Not in the office, though. I don't want anyone to overhear this." He handed out a piece of paper. "Here is her address. I advise you to visit her this evening, tell her how sorry you are; but that you did everything you could to save the ship. No more, no less. If she reacts badly, you will report this to me tomorrow and I will put an end to any laments of her."

Slowly, he took the card out of Mr. Herald's hands.

"Now, I expect your files to be delivered this afternoon. I will see them through. We'll talk about our proceeding tomorrow, at ten a.m.," Herald said, obviously ending the conversation.

Will stared at him for a few more seconds, then slowly, turned around and left the office. Until now, he had not spent a single thought on the trial, but… They gave his photo to the press. Just like that, without informing him. He had worked for White Star Line his whole life and they just… abandoned him. He couldn't quite believe it.

As he walked towards the exit, a familiar voice asked:

"Are you alright, first officer Murdoch?"

He turned and stared at her in disbelief. Was she really asking him that?

"I'm not a first officer anymore, miss. I'm charged with being responsible for the Titanic's sinking. I am suspected of involuntary homicide," he replied.

This, finally, caused a change in her expression. He believed it was shock and felt glad about it. She should be shocked. Actually, she should take one of those heavy files and smack it on his head.

Instead, she looked at him. "Did you?" she asked.

Simple. Plain. Not: did you let the Titanic sink? Did you give the wrong order? Did you give the right order but too late? Just: did you.

"The inquiry believes it. So you should believe it, too," he replied and broke Mr. Herald's first rule.

Somehow, he wanted her to stop talking. Just stop and let him go his way. But she didn't. Of course she didn't, just like Charles.

"What if you didn't?" she asked.

"An official inquiry believes it. Do you know who led the inquiry?" he asked, his voice harsher than he had expected it to be.

"No, I…"

"People that actually know something about ships. Now, do you know anything about ships? No, you don't. So just do yourself a favor and believe them."

She lowered her gaze and to his own surprise, he felt glad about that, too. He did not need her polite words, or her understanding. And moreover, he did not want it.

While she still stood silent, he left the building without another word.

 **A/N: I know, this chapter lacked interactions – but Will and Alice will meet again in the next one. And of course, Lightoller is still determined to help his friend through the whole trial, so he will be back, as well. If you didn't like the chapter, or if you liked it, please let me know.**


	6. Fragile

**A/N: Thanks to LaueeeCarter for the kind review and of course, thanks to everyone still reading this.**

 **Chapter 6: Fragile**

" _It's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."  
(Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland)_

Her governess had once told Alice that happiness was a fragile thing. It could be raised in a second and smashed in another.

Alice had not understood that. But now, standing in an office in New York, she finally did.

She did not understand what had happened, though. In one moment, she had felt overwhelmed by the sight of him, so overwhelmed in fact that she hadn't been able to think of anything to say – and in the next, it had felt as if something inside her had been shattered.

And he had left, just like that, walking out of the door as if they were strangers. Maybe they were. Maybe there had never been conversations, or trips down to a vault of treasures. Maybe her mind had just played a trick on her, messing with fact and fiction. Maybe she was going mad.

"Alice, are you alright?" a female voice asked.

She turned, as if in trance, and looked at Rosie without replying.

"You are pale," the woman stated. "Come on, sit down. I'll get you a glass of water."

"I'm fine," she managed to say and sat down nevertheless.

"Is it because of that officer?" Rosie asked. "It must be hard for you to know one of our lawyers is going to defend the man who might be responsible for the disaster."

"Don't say that," Alice replied sharply, shocked by her own voice. She had never before snapped at anyone.

Rosie looked at her and backed up a little. "Sorry," she muttered and turned.

Alice took her arm. "No, wait," she said. "I am sorry. I… I am just confused."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Rosie asked, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

For a second, she wanted to. She really did. But what was there to say? _I met this officer on board of the ship and he was kind to me, he talked to me, he showed me things and I think I like him, but I am afraid he doesn't like me._

No. No, she couldn't.

"There really isn't much to say, I just… I just wished they would leave the whole thing alone," she said instead.

The woman looked at her sympathetically. "I know it must be hard for you. But the people want to know what happened. They need to know what happened."

"The ship sank. Isn't that enough?"

Rosie sighed. "I am afraid it is not that easy."

She touched her shoulder once more, gently, then walked back to her own desk. Alice stared at the paperwork in front of her and slowly, picked up her work.

* * *

As William Murdoch reached his flat, he shut the front door behind him with a loud smack.

She was _alive_. How on earth was she alive, when her name hadn't been on the survivor's list? And why did he feel angry about it, even betrayed?

He sighed and took off his coat. Since the inquiry, he did not understand himself any more. Moreover, he did not know what to do. His whole life he had known exactly what was expected of him, had known exactly what he had to do, what he had to say – but now…

He wished it would be just over, wished the judges would just decide whatever they wanted, but Lightoller would never let him.

And the woman hadn't let him, either.

 _What if you didn't?_

But he hadn't listened, well, he had listened but had snapped at her, basically telling her to shut up, because…

Because he was afraid both she and Lightoller were wrong. Because he was afraid that they defended him, only to find out he had been guilty from the very first second, from the moment the Titanic had hit the iceberg. Because he was afraid they would find out what he now suspected: that he had made a mistake.

The thought hadn't crossed his mind once, after the sinking. It had been planted inside his brain by the inquiry, by their questions; by the way they frowned and raised their eyebrows.

Until then, he had been sure he had done everything right to avoid the collision, regretting only that he hadn't been able to save more people.

Now, he wasn't sure of anything anymore.

A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts. He walked over to open it, only to find Lightoller standing there.

"How did it go?" the man asked without further ado, stepping inside.

Murdoch shrugged his shoulders. "It appears he is a good lawyer."

"It appears…" Charles started and stared at him. "Is that all?"

"He requested my file from White Star Line and asked me if there was anything in it he should know."

"Like what?"

"Like accidents."

"Well, you're safe on that. Your file must be nothing but polished white."

"I suppose," Will replied.

"I talked to Moody, this morning," Lightoller said. "He's doing okay."

"That's good. He is a fine young man."

"He asked for you. He thinks White Star Line's behavior is a disgrace and agrees with me that they should better interrogate Ismay."

"He's the chairman of the firm, they would never do that," Murdoch said. "And why would they? He was just a passenger."

"Yeah, a passenger who pressured the captain to go faster, against better judgement," Charles replied angrily. "A passenger who had nothing better to do but jump in the first lifeboat, despite being a man, despite all honor."

"He didn't jump into the first lifeboat," Murdoch contradicted.

Charles stared at him. "You're really defending this little rat?"

"Don't be stupid, of course I don't. As he got into the boat, I wanted to strangle him. But what could I have done?"

"Well, I would have dragged him out of it, or thrown him into the water. You've always been too kind to people who don't appreciate it."

"Yes. And unkind to those who do," he muttered.

"What?" Charles asked.

He just shook his head. "Never mind."

His friend looked at him, but decided to leave him be. "Well, anyway, I could do with something to eat. And to drink, actually. Come on, I'm buying."

"I'd rather not go out, after seeing today's newspaper," Murdoch said, expecting Charles to argue with him. Surprisingly enough, he didn't.

"Yeah, you might be right. Maybe your landlady will fix you something, if you ask nicely."

"I'm a grown man, Charles. I won't starve."

"Right. Don't get too thin, though. I'm used to be the attractive one of us."

"I doubt being charged of involuntary homicide attracts anyone."

"Don't know. Some women are quite affected by that kind of charm."

Murdoch shot him a dark glance.

"Yeah, I shouldn't make jokes about that," Lightoller muttered. "But you can't give yourself up, Will! You are one of the best damn officers White Star Line has ever had – you did not sink the ship. And hell, you know I do not say that lightly."

He patted his shoulder slightly – Will still did not like it -, then looked at the door.

"I have to leave. I need to send a message to Sylvia – she must be mad with sorrow."

"You haven't contacted her until now?" Murdoch asked.

"I wanted to. But first, there was the inquiry, then…" his friend started, but didn't continue.

"Then there was me," he finished the sentence for him.

Lightoller avoided his gaze, probably for the first time since he knew him.

"Go. Text your wife. I'll get along."

His friend raised an eyebrow in question.

"Go. Now," he said insistently.

"Okay. I'll come by tomorrow afternoon."

"I am not in need of a babysitter, Charles," Murdoch said.

"I know that. I'll come by, still."

And with that, he left him alone with his thoughts, again.

* * *

Alice came home after a long day at work around 8 p.m., with a few slices of bread in her bag. Although she knew how to cook, she lately found herself way too worn out to do it. Her last real meal had been when she had gone out with the other secretaries.

She put the bag on the kitchen sink and took off her coat, looking at the bag. There was something else inside it, something she had avoided until today – a newspaper.

She wasn't sure why she had even bought it, maybe it had been because of Rosie's words – _I'm afraid it is not that easy._

She knew the woman was right. So many people had died – how could the world just ignore it? Yet, she stood there for around ten minutes, hesitating.

 _Do you know anything about ships?_

No, she did not. She knew something of the things a secretary should know, some things about history, even about math; she knew what was considered "appropriate behavior", knew how to knit, how to cook – but nothing about ships.

And why would she need to? She never dreamed about becoming an officer and even if it had been possible for a woman to become one, she would have never chosen that path.

But he did. He had chosen this profession, he had succeeded in it and he loved it, at least, she thought he did…

Alice opened the bag and took the newspaper out. The headline was impossible to miss. The article stretched for four pages and she sat down on the sofa, reading it carefully.

Apparently, there had been an inquiry from White Star Line and apparently, they had agreed on the lawsuit against their former officer, because the interrogators hadn't been sure whether his actions had been right or justified.

Since neither Captain Smith, nor chief officer Wilde had survived, they lacked the opinion of a higher ranked officer to rule out there had been a mistake.

Alice wondered slightly how many ways there were to avoid the collision with an object so close to a ship so huge.

The article also mentioned the number of victims: around 1.800.

She stood up and put the newspaper back into the bag. 1.800. She had known it had been bad, but she had never known how bad…

A knock on the front door ripped her out of her thoughts. Since she had moved in, no one had ever visited her – not anyhow surprising, since she knew no one in this city.

Slowly, she walked over to the door and opened it slightly.

"First officer Murdoch," she said surprised, then opened the door completely. "What are you doing here?

The man looked at her. His hair and coat were completely soaked. Apparently, it had started to rain after she had come home. She hadn't realized that, probably because she had been lost in reading.

"I was… unforgivable rude to you," he said. "I apologize."

Alice just stared at him, confused. "How did you find me?" she asked.

The question seemed to take him aback, for it took him a few seconds to reply.

"I… Mr. Herald told me to talk to you. As I spoke to him." He paused. "Forget it. I shouldn't have come."

And he immediately turned on his heels.

"I am almost certain it is my duty to listen, if Mr. Herald wishes it," she said calmly.

He turned again, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"You don't have any duty towards me, miss."

"I didn't say I had," Alice said. "I was talking about my duty towards my bosses."

This again caused him to stare in silence and Alice found herself surprised by her own guardedness. Maybe seeing him alive was just too much for her. Or maybe, she was afraid of him snapping at her like this morning.

"I will tell him I didn't visit you, miss," he replied.

Moments passed. Moments in which neither of them seemed to know what to do, or say. She wanted to let him in, but wasn't sure if he would accept this offer. Or wanted to come in.

"Why are you so wet?" she asked finally.

"It's raining, miss."

She looked at him, then stepped away from the door. "Come in."

He appeared to be shocked. "No. No, I shouldn't."

"I'm pretty sure I will be fired if I let one of our a-class-cases die of pneumonia on my doorstep, so I would appreciate your help on saving my job," she said and thought that that was probably the most eloquent thing she had ever said in her whole life. And the most mean thing, to be honest.

If her purpose was to stun him completely, however, it worked out quite well, for he just stared at her, wide-eyed.

"That was unforgivable rude of me. We are even," she said quietly. "Now, come in."

He hesitated, but finally stepped inside the flat. He stopped in the middle of the room, unsure where to go or what to do.

"Give me your coat," she said.

"It's Lightoller's," he replied as he took it off.

As if it mattered. The only clothes he still owned was his uniform and he would never dress in it again.

"I'll hang it up. Maybe it will dry a little," she replied and walked into the bathroom, coming back with a grey towel.

"Here," she said and held it out to him.

He took it and dried his hair, trying not to mess it up completely as he did. It was in vain, though. As he gave the towel back to her, his dark brown hair was nothing more but a damp chaos.

She did not care much about it, though. She took the towel back to the bathroom, looking into the mirror as she threw it into the box for dirty laundry. Her reflection was aghast, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. She looked like she was afraid and embarrassed in the same moment.

She turned around to escape the mirror and walked back into the other room.

"Would you like a cup of tea? Or coffee? It's not very good, I have to admit."

"Tea, miss. But only if you intended to make one for yourself."

Actually, she did not, but she made two cups, wondering if pretending would help either one of them.

"Here," she said as it was ready, handing it out to him. "Please, sit down," she added.

He followed her suggestion and she sat down beside him, leaving as much distance between them as anyhow possible.

"Why did Mr. Herald tell you to see me?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea.

"I shall tell you that I am sorry and that I did everything to save the ship."

"Why?" she asked.

"He thinks you could talk to the press."

"Why would I? All I could say to them would be that you saved my life by getting me into a lifeboat. I haven't even thanked you for that."

"Don't do it, please," he said.

She looked away from him, out of the window. Raindrops were running down the glass, the sky dark and grey.

"I thought you were dead," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Apparently, I am not," he said, his tone bitter, contrasting sharply with hers. "Lightoller fished me out of the sea."

"Thankfully."

"What if I killed all those people? Would you still say that, then?"

Alice remained silent for a few seconds, before she replied: "I know nothing of ships, as you already pointed out. But you do. I don't think you would have made such a mistake."

"Everyone makes mistakes. I am not an exception."

"Why do you want to believe you're guilty?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and steady, looking at him.

He looked away instantly. "I should have gone back," he muttered.

"The sea was ice cold. You would have died."

He laughed shortly. "Yes. That's what Lightoller said."

"Well, since he's a sailor, you must believe him. Even if you don't believe someone who's got no idea of anything, like me," she replied and rose, putting her cup back into the sink and closing her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"It's not… I shouldn't have been so harsh," he said.

"It's okay. You're right, after all. I know nothing of ships," she replied, her eyes still closed, her fingers grabbing the edge of the sink tightly, so tightly her knuckles almost turned white.

A _nd you,_ she thought. _Apparently, I know nothing of you, either._

Silence fell between them. She kept standing there, her eyes fixed on the distance. On board of the Titanic, her conversations had felt so easy, so lighthearted – now, they felt like stones bound to her feet, drowning her.

"I almost shot a man," he said. "During the evacuation."

She turned around, surprised. "Why?"

"He wanted to get into a lifeboat, whilst there were still women and children waiting."

"But you did not."

"I think I would have. If the sea hadn't washed us over."

"You don't know that," she replied.

"No. I don't know that. It appears I know nothing, anymore," he said quietly and paused. "Your family must be glad that you are alive," he finally continued.

"I haven't heard from anyone, except from my father. He sent me a cheque. To make up for my lost belongings."

"I am sure he meant well."

"I did not doubt that," she replied. "Where do you live?"

"I found an elderly lady who had a room to spare for little money. Since White Star Line fired me, the rent was a crucial point."

"They fired you and then backed a lawsuit against you?"

"Apparently."

"What did Lightoller say to that?"

"I'd rather not repeat that in front of a lady, miss."

"He seems to be a very good friend."

"Better than I deserve. But I don't deserve your hospitality, either. And I don't want to strain it," he said and rose. "I apologize again for my behavior this morning. I was…"

"There is nothing to apologize for," she said.

"You are very kind, miss."

"As you have been to me, first officer Murdoch."

He looked at her, his expression tormented. "Please don't call me that."

"If you insist," she replied.

"I should go," he stated. "Would you give me my coat?"

Alice nodded her head and fetched it out of the bathroom. "It is still wet, I am afraid," she said as she handed it over.

"It will do." He put it on, then looked at her. "Goodbye, miss."

He walked over to the door and as he opened it, turned one last time towards her. "I… I am glad you are alive."

And he hurried out, shutting the door.

 _I'm glad you are alive, too,_ she thought. _Even though I fear you'll never talk to me, again._

 **Next time, the trial against Will will finally begin - and of course, Alice and Will will meet again, even though she doubts it right now. Please tell me what you think so far.**


	7. Hearing

**A/N:** Thank you, LaueeeCarter, for your kind review. I'm glad you like the description of the characters. I really try to keep them realistic and interesting. And thanks to angelic13demon for the follow!

This chapter focuses a little more on the "minor characters" I created, Mr. Herald and Rosie, but since both of them will be important to Will and Alice, I did not want to neglect them.

 **Chapter 7: Hearing**

" _We're all put to the test... but it never comes in the form or at the point we would prefer, does it?"  
(David Mamet)_

Murdoch had never thought that lawyers actually worked on Saturdays. But as he entered the office the next morning, he found it just as busy as yesterday. For a second, his eyes fell on the woman, who was talking with the redhead, but as she raised her eyes to his, he immediately lowered his gaze and headed forward.

He still felt confused about their conversation yesterday, unable to decide whether it had been awkward, or stupid, or plain senseless. There had been a time on the Titanic when he had questioned this as well, but for a very different reason. Now, it felt like he was walking on burning ground.

He opened the door to Mr. Herald's office. The man appeared just as dignified as yesterday, not as caddish and ruthless as he had pictured a lawyer to be.

"Mr. Murdoch. Please, sit down," he said.

Will wondered slightly if the man had been to military training, for his whole attitude tolerated no dissent.

"Have you visited Miss Khairay?" Herald asked as he sat down.

"Yes, sir," he replied. Of course he had. He was good at following orders. Or had been.

"The affair is settled then, I assume?"

"It is."

Herald nodded his head, seeming pleased. "Just as I expected. I told you she'd be reasonable."

"Yes sir, she was."

"I have received a message from the court, yesterday evening. The trial is to begin on Monday."

He stared at him, stunned. "So early, sir?"

"The matter bears no delay, Mr. Murdoch. The people want to know what happened. Anyway, there is no reason to be upset. It will begin with a formal hearing, in which the prosecution will read the charges and we will plead not guilty. The real battle starts afterwards." The man looked at him. "I have also received your file from White Star Line. The good thing is that there are really no accidents recorded."

Will raised an eyebrow. "It sounds like you expected me to lie."

"Of course I did. Everyone in your situation would want to save himself, first. And people tend to lie when they are threatened. It is a natural behavior." He paused. "However, your file is not as polished as you may think it is."

"Sir?" he asked.

"In 1903, you served on board of the Arabic. There was an incident when the liner almost collided with another ship. Maybe you could enlighten me on that. I fear the exact process is not very detailed."

Murdoch looked at him, wondering what the man was about. But Herald's expression was blank, solid as stone.

"A ship was spotted bearing down on the Arabic out of the darkness. I held the ship on course to avoid a collision," he replied.

"But that hadn't been the initial command of Mr. Fox, had it?" Herald asked calmly.

"No, it hadn't."

"Tell me, Mr. Murdoch, what had been the initial command?"

"To steer the ship hard-port."

"But you discussed this with Mr. Fox and you both agreed on holding course instead?"

"There wasn't any time for that."

"Well, what did you do, then?" Herald asked calmly.

"I rushed into the wheelhouse and held the ship on course."

"You rushed into the wheelhouse… Where was the quartermaster? Wasn't he supposed to steer the ship?"

"I brushed him aside."

"You brushed him aside," Mr. Herald said and rose. "Is it safe to say, Mr. Murdoch, that you did not only override a command by a higher ranked officer, but also had the impertinence to brush the quartermaster aside, a man much more experienced than you?"

Murdoch stared at him. "If we had altered the course, the ships would have collided!"

"That was not my question."

"What's this got to do with the Titanic?" he asked irritated.

"Everything, Mr. Murdoch. You think this is going to be a trial about what you did as the Titanic hit the iceberg and sank? It is not. It is never. This is a trial about what kind of person you are and whether the jury believes you are capable of making a decision so wrong that it led to the death of all these people, or not. Now, if I were the prosecutor, I would use this incident to show your insubordination and would question if the same had happened on the Titanic, if there had been a command you simply overruled, as you have done before."

"There was none. The quartermaster and officer Moody can witness this."

"Yes, they can. But by then, the thought of you being a hothead, overthrowing decisions, will already have been planted inside the jury's minds."

"Well, I can't change that, can I?" he asked.

"Of course you can. Because you've got me as your lawyer. While the prosecution will use this _against_ you, I will give my best to use it _for_ you. That's the only secret about a court trial, Mr. Murdoch. The prosecution tries to make the suspect the villain and the defense tries to canonize him. Facts are only a minor matter."

"I don't understand that," he replied quietly.

"You don't have to. You just need to follow my lead," Mr. Herald said. "Now, do you still own your uniform?"

"Yes."

"Good. I want you to wear it to every hearing."

Murdoch stared at him. "Why?"

"Because it makes you look professional. Because it makes you look like you actually know what you're doing. Anyone can dress in a suit; a uniform, however, is a completely different thing."

Will looked at the man, yet remained silent. He had sworn to himself he would never wear that uniform again; the mere thought of it making him feel uncomfortable.

"I don't assume this is a problem, after you've worn a uniform for the most of your life," Herald said, his grey eyes piercing right through him.

But it was a problem. He couldn't even quite say why – but he knew he would rather dress in a potato sack. But he couldn't tell his lawyer that, for it would make him seem childish and cowardly.

"Of course not," he replied instead.

"Good. We will meet here on Monday at 08:00 a.m. The hearing starts at 09:00 a.m. You don't have to say anything, I will handle that for you. Just keep your attitude calm and diligent."

"Will there be spectators?" Murdoch asked.

"Many, I am afraid. All the hearings will be open to the public."

"I understand," he said.

"Well, that is all," Mr. Herald said. "You should maybe distract yourself on the weekend, if you find it anyhow possible. The more nervous you are, the less professional you appear."

Murdoch wondered slightly if the man would be able to do that if their roles were switched – but then again, Herald did not seem like a man doubting himself.

"Thank you, sir," he said and rose, leaving the office.

As he walked towards the exit, he saw the woman talking to a young, blond man, holding out a file to him; probably the lawyer she had been assigned to. For a second, he found himself wishing the man was older, bold and podgy, but he felt stupid for it immediately. Without another look, he headed out of the door.

* * *

Alice caught him leaving the office as she listened to Mr. Baker's orders. For a swift second, she actually believed he would come over and talk to her, but the thought was ridiculous, of course. Even if the situation had been different, it would have been foolish to expect him to care about her that much.

Nevertheless, her own feelings were a completely different matter. She did not know for certain what she felt; hadn't known that aboard the ship to be honest, but she also couldn't let it go. Not quite, not yet.

As Mr. Baker returned to his office, she gathered her courage and knocked on Mr. Miller's door.

"Come in."

She tiptoed inside, feeling like she was five years old again, trying to be invisible.

"Miss Khairay," Miller said, his expression genuine. "Please, take a seat."

Alice wondered if his kindness originated merely from his friendship with her grandfather and decided it was very likely.

"I don't want to disturb you, sir," she replied, refusing his offer to sit down. "I just wondered… if you know when the trial starts."

She did not name it and she did not need to. Miller was an intelligent man and moreover, had enough experience to understand a lot about human behavior and human motives.

"The first hearing is set for Monday, 09:00 a.m."

She nodded and lowered her gaze, unsure how to move on. The man, however, released her from that burden.

"Do you want to go?" he asked.

"If you will allow it, sir," she answered, now looking at him.

The man sighed and shook his head. "Your request is understandable. However, I don't know if it is wise. You survived a terrible disaster and you will most certainly go through it again if you attend the hearings. A lot of people shatter on things like that. I once had a case where a mother lost her son to a terrible workplace accident and she as well insisted on attending the hearings. We won, but she got quieter and quieter with every hearing. In the end, she did not talk at all, anymore. She had had the hope that seeing someone being judged for her son's death would heal her broken heart, but eventually, had to find out that things do not work this way."

"My heart is not broken, sir," she replied quietly.

And it was the truth. While she felt terribly sorry for all the victims, while she knew she would probably never again set a foot on a ship, her heart was still intact. For now.

"And if you worry about my work, I will do extra hours, of course," she added.

"Of course," Miller replied calmly. "Well, if you are sure you want this, I will allow it. You might learn something from it, after all. You will have to speak with Mr. Baker, though."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," she said and walked out of the door, heading for Mr. Baker's office, who agreed without further ado, mostly because she promised him to make up for it by stretching her working hours.

* * *

Around 4:30 p.m., Alice finally finished her work, together with everyone else. As she left the building, Rosie approached her.

"Shall we do something?" the redhead asked.

Alice looked up at her, surprised. "Do something?"

"Yes. We could go to the zoo. Have you ever been to the zoo?"

"No, I haven't," Alice replied. "But, is it decent for us to just… walk around?"

Her colleague laughed. "God, this is so British. We're in New York, darling. As long as the sun is still up, we are free to go. And, of course, as long as we're not two snobbish white ladies. Come on, then!" And she locked arms with her.

It was a strange feeling, having another person next to her, chattering and laughing. Strange and comforting.

And Rosie's little chit-chat was a perfect distraction from trials, disasters and officers. She learnt that the woman was one of five children, the youngest and also, the loudest. She also learnt that four years ago, her parents had given her the choice to either marry her cousin - "an arrogant brat", as Rosie described him - or get a job and pay her bills on her own. Rosie had taken the second alternative without another thought. She also told her that she was probably too confident for a girl, that she would never find a man who would want to keep up with her stubbornness. Alice secretly thought she was right – finding a man who wanted a confident woman would certainly not be easy. On the other side, she also thought that this was the most beautiful feature of her – besides her beautiful red locks and porcelain skin.

They arrived at the zoo around 40 minutes later and as they walked through it, Alice' feelings were divided. While she enjoyed seeing the animals, she also felt sorry for them, being locked up in rather small cages. One animal – a beautiful red fox – ran circles in its small prison, jumping against the fence. Alice looked at the elegant creature. It appeared so desperate, so hopeless that she found it impossible to go on.

"Shall we get a coffee?" she asked her friend, hoping she would agree.

Rosie looked at her and nodded her head. "Yes."

They walked over to a small café in one of the side streets, visited mostly by families. They ordered and took place on a small table in the lower corner.

As Alice took off her coat, her friend said: "You know, you could actually pass for an Italian."

"I am not Italian," she replied quietly.

"Yes, but you could pass for one. My brother, Marc, once fell in love with an Italian girl from the neighborhood. She had the same beautiful skin tone as you."

Alice looked at her surprised. "My skin tone is not beautiful."

"Of course it is! It's like light chocolate – and everyone loves chocolate, don't they?" Rosie replied with a grin.

"It's not the color a British girl prefers."

"Because they could never get it, with all the rain and that. I think it suits you very well, though. If your skin was fair, you'd look constantly sick with that dark hair of yours. And imagine how funny I'd look if my skin _wasn't_ pale."

"Does everyone in your family have red hair?" Alice asked, changing the subject.

"Except for my mom, yes. Made it easy for my parents to distinguish us from the other children. When I was born, they were fiery red, though."

The waitress brought their orders and Alice took a sip of her tea.

"Can I ask you something?" Rosie asked.

"Of course."

"Did every passenger on board of the Titanic get to know the officers?"

Alice blinked. "No."

"So… There is a story behind this, is there?"

"I wouldn't call it a story," Alice muttered.

"You know, you don't have to tell me. But I'd really like to know," Rosie replied. "I can't do anything about it, I'm just always so curious. Even though curiosity killed the cat, didn't it?"

She shook her head slowly. "There really isn't much about it. He… he was nice to me when no one else was. He talked to me, when everyone else avoided me. And he put me in the first lifeboat that left the ship. I owe him my life," Alice said.

"So that's why you are defending him."

"He is a good officer. The sinking was an accident," she replied evasively.

It was the truth, of course, she did owe him her life – but there was so much more to it. So much more, which maybe meant nothing after all.

Rosie, however, was very deductive about it. "Did you kiss?"

Alice stared at her, thunderstruck. "No. No, of course not."

"Of course not? You don't like him that way?"

"I… He's an officer. I was just a second class passenger."

"You wanted to, then?" Rosie asked.

"I haven't thought about it," she replied. It was a lie. She had thought about it – but had cast it aside every time.

"I once knew a boy I liked. Never told him, though. He ended up marrying one of my friends. I was so heartbroken," the other woman said.

"You kept quiet?" Alice asked surprised.

Rosie laughed loudly. "Hard to believe, ain't it? But yeah, I kept quiet. I don't know. Maybe I was afraid he would reject me. Some days, I thought he liked me, on other days, he just completely ignored me. Well, I suppose I'll never know now, will I?"

Alice looked at her, but remained silent. Maybe that was the thing about liking someone – the fear of rejection always lingered in the shadows. And sometimes, you ended up with getting nothing but all the "what-ifs".

* * *

On Monday morning, William McMaster Murdoch stood in his little apartment, staring at the uniform laid out on his bed. For years, it had felt like a part of him. For years, whenever he had worn it, he had felt comfortable and self-assured. Now, it was related to the biggest mistake he had probably ever made, related to the death of innocent men, women and children, related to a situation he hadn't been able to control.

Lightoller had tried to convince him it was just a piece of cotton as he had visited on Saturday afternoon, nothing more but clothing – but it wasn't true.

He sighed and finally put it on, walking over to the bathroom, looking into the small mirror. As he adjusted his tie, his fingers were trembling, just as they had been when the Titanic had hit the iceberg. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, even though he had really tried to get some sleep.

His whole appearance seemed so pretended, so rehearsed that he was almost sure Mr. Herald wouldn't be pleased. Of course, he couldn't change it now.

He put on the gloves and for a second, found himself searching for his hat, before he remembered that it had vanished as the sea had swept him off the ship.

 _No, no… It is alright._

She had not liked the hat.

He left the apartment and walked over to the lawyer's office. Mr. Herald was already waiting for him in front of the building, dressed in an expensive looking suit.

"Good morning, Mr. Murdoch," he said and lit a cigarette, offering the silver cigarette case to him.

He shook his head. "Thank you. I don't smoke," he said.

The elder man raised an eyebrow, yet did not comment it. Murdoch knew most of the upper class men enjoyed cigarettes and cigars, but he had never gotten used to the smell.

As Herald was finished, he looked at him. "It is time. Are you ready?"

He wasn't. How could someone be ready for this?

"I have to, don't I?" he asked.

The elder man patted his shoulder – he didn't like it even a little bit better than when Lightoller did it – and said: "Don't worry, son. I am there for you."

 _Yes, because you got my money,_ he thought and felt ungrateful immediately. With all the headlines in the press, he probably needed to be thankful a lawyer even took his case.

* * *

They arrived at the court house at 08:30 a.m., but if he had thought they were the first, he quickly realized he was mistaken. People were already gathering outside, staring at him as he followed Herald up the stairs. He tried not to pay attention to them, but it was almost impossible.

Mr. Herald, however, did not stop. He marched right to the court room, where an officer opened the doors for them. Will had never been in a court room before and it appeared huge to him. There were at least ten rows for spectators on each side.

Herald caught his glance. "They aren't all that big," he said. "But since there are a lot of people to be expected…"

He just nodded. Herald sat down in front of the table positioned left of the bench.

"The prosecution will sit over there," he explained and pointed to the table right of them. "The jury over there."

Somehow, Murdoch believed he was only telling him that to keep him distracted. After ten minutes, the first people entered the court room, taking seat. He tried to keep himself from looking over his shoulder, but failed. He spotted Lightoller coming in, as well as Moody.

At 08:50 a.m., a tall man sat down on the table on the right.

"Mr. Parker, the prosecutor," Herald said.

Will looked at him. The man was around fifty, with grey hair, his body built like a greyhound – tall, skinny and eager. He looked away quickly, back to the entrance. More and more people entered, the room almost crowded now. Just as he wanted to turn around again, his eyes fell on a familiar figure. For a second, he was completely taken aback – she had come. _Why_ had she come?

"Jenkins. Well, could have been worse," he heard Mr. Herald say and finally turned around.

The judge had taken his seat. He looked at the nameplate in front of him - _Judge Jenkins_ \- and wondered if anyone dared to call him JJ. He almost laughed at the thought, not sure why. While he tried to suppress his laughter, he felt fear creeping up his spine and the room suddenly seemed to be lost in a blur.

"You have to breathe, Mr. Murdoch," Herald said quietly beneath him.

He tried, but it felt as if his lungs had stopped working. He grabbed the table in front of him tightly, his eyes fixed on the floor.

He would never make it through this. He couldn't.

"Plead guilty," he muttered. "Plead guilty and let it be over with."

He actually expected the lawyer to say something reassuring, instead he felt a sharp pain as Herald kicked his leg under the table.

"Breathe," he repeated, still very calm.

Somehow, the pain did the trick. He took a deep breath – and the room slowly became clear again. Just in time, apparently, because Judge Jenkins began to speak, the room falling silent immediately.

"We try the case against William McMaster Murdoch, born on the 28th of February 1873. Article of the accusation is involuntarily homicide. Mr. Parker, the accusation please," the judge said.

The prosecutor rose. "Your Honor, Members of the Jury. Mr. Murdoch was the first officer of the R.M.S. Titanic, which sank on the 15th of April 1912. He was in duty as the ship collided with the iceberg, leaving between 1.500 – 1.800 people dead. The correct number of the victims hasn't been established yet. An inquiry by the shipping company, the White Star Line, has evoked doubts regarding Mr. Murdoch's attempts to avoid the collision. After searching the files and speaking to different experts, the prosecution has come to the conclusion that these doubts are justified. We will prove that Mr. Murdoch's commands did not only come too late, but also that the damages could have been reduced, if his actions had been different. Moreover, we also have to question his behavior during the evacuation of the ship, given that at least a third of the lifeboats carried only half of the people they were actually designed for. Given these circumstances, we charge Mr. Murdoch with involuntary homicide."

"Thank you, Mr. Parker," Jenkins said and the prosecutor sat down.

"Mr. Herald, how does your client plead?"

Mr. Herald rose. "Not guilty, your honor. The sinking of the Titanic was a terrible disaster – but it was an accident. It was evoked by decisions made way before the accident, including the decision of the deceased Captain Smith to increase the speed, despite having received at least four ice warnings. This decision was forced on Captain Smith by Bruce Ismay, the chairman of White Star Line, yet, Mr. Ismay has never been interrogated by his firm's inquiry. Moreover, other experienced officers haven't been heard in the inquiry, officers that will confirm in this trial that Mr. Murdoch's actions during the collision have been considerate and righteous. Also, it will be confirmed that Mr. Murdoch's behavior during the evacuation has given no reason for an objection."

"Thank you, Mr. Herald," Judge Jenkins said. "I have received the witness list of the prosecution and the defense. Considering the amount of witnesses, the hearings in this trial will be tightly scheduled. The next hearing is therefore timed for Wednesday, 10:00 a.m. This hearing is completed."

The judge rose and behind him, Murdoch could hear some people whisper, while others appeared to be standing up. He looked at Mr. Herald, but found it impossible to read the man's expression. He attempted to rise, but the lawyer shook his head.

"Stay. We don't want to make our way through all these people," he said.

Beneath them, Mr. Parker rose. "John," he greeted shortly.

"Henry," Herald replied, looking after the prosecutor as he left.

"You know each other?" Will asked irritated.

"We've met," the man replied shortly. "He is one of the best prosecutors in New York, but that was to be expected in a case like this. No reason to worry."

Murdoch remained silent. One of the best prosecutors… He fixed his eyes on the bench in front of them, wondering again how the hell he had ended up in this situation. Somewhere deep inside his mind, he just couldn't believe he was responsible. But that thought was overshadowed by the inquiry, by the newspapers and by a nagging feeling that he hadn't done everything possible to save the people, a thought that hadn't left him since Lightoller had forced him to stay inside the lifeboat.

"Will," a voice suddenly said.

He turned around and saw Lightoller and Moody standing there.

"Gentlemen," Mr. Herald said and rose. "I will wait for you outside."

"Well, that was…" Lightoller began. "I don't even know what to say."

"Appears they question everything I ever did," he replied.

"Mr. Murdoch, sir – you did everything right. And I will tell them that, when they ask me. I wanted to tell that to the people of White Star Line as well, but they wouldn't listen. I… I am sorry," Moody said.

He stared at the younger officer, who seemed to be ashamed. Suddenly, he realized that this trial wasn't only affecting him.

"It's alright, Mr. Moody. Don't worry about it," he said.

The younger man nodded his head, then turned to Lightoller. "I'll get some fresh air," he said and left as well.

"This is a nightmare," Lightoller said as Moody was out of the room. "Honestly, I'd really like to go over to White Star Line and burn the whole building down."

"Why? Do you want to share a cell with me?" Murdoch asked.

"Talking about it, you'll never guess who sat beside me during the hearing. Your little… female friend from the second class," his friend said.

"Oh, really?" Murdoch replied, trying to sound surprised, but judging the expression of his friend, he failed completely.

"You knew that."

"She works for the same lawyer's office as Mr. Herald," he admitted, hoping Lightoller would just leave it at that. Of course, the man didn't.

"Does she, now? What a weird coincidence."

"I really don't want to talk about that, Charles. It doesn't matter. To be honest, I'd like to get out of here now, if you don't have any objection," Will replied sharply.

"I just said it was a weird coincidence."

"And I tell you: it doesn't matter," he repeated.

"Fine," Lightoller said. "Let's go, then."

 **Liked it? Hated it? Have any suggestions regarding the storyline? Please, feel free to let me know.**


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